


Suit And Tie

by going_going_gone (orphan_account)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Team Hot Dads, and hermann is grumpy, art is hard, pan!newt, pan!tendo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/going_going_gone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann Gottlieb is going to the school of his dreams, a school that takes care to foster the of whims of it’s many child prodigies. Unfortunately, this means that Newton Geiszler, a fellow student and Hermann’s “arch-nemesis” is allowed to go about school looking like a vagrant. Hermann wears his jacket and uniform perfectly pressed everyday and Newt wears his tie all knotted wrong with his shirt untucked and his trousers constantly wrinkled and wears converse to school everyday, and he winks at Hermann in the halls who had to pretend like it doesn’t make him blush every time.<br/>If only Hermann could ignore him. Unfortunately, this becomes impossible when the dreaded art teacher, Mr. Stacker Pentecost assigns Newt as his partner for the massive final project. Neither are prepared for the disaster that ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sharp Dressed Man

**Author's Note:**

> All the credit goes to nuwnda on tumblr (go follow her immediately if you aren't already doing so) because I'd probably never have written this if i didn't see this post (http://nuwnda.tumblr.com/post/102486613241/a-newt-hermann-boarding-school-au-where-hermann). Thank you so much for the inspiration, because this is gonna be hella fun to write.

Hermann stepped in front of the mirror, carefully inspecting himself. His hair was combed flat to his head, neat and clean, and his shirt was so white it practically glowed. His tie sat straight along his torso, tucked neatly into his blazer, and not a single stray thread poked out from the Shatterdome Academy emblem embroidered on the jacket. He looked perfectly presentable, but he still felt anxious.

This was...well, only a few months from graduation, Hermann was thinking about all he’d hoped for since his kindergarten teacher had first used the word gifted to refer to him. Although not one to brag- very much anyway- Hermann was, well, a genius. He’d been labeled a child prodigy at ten, and Shatterdome was one of the most elite, selective boarding schools in the country.

Even getting in was a feat, and graduating was even more so. Hermann was so close he could taste it, the school already wrapped up in preparations for final exams. He’d done excellently all year, and there was absolutely no reason to worry. None, that was, except for art class.

Hermann had thought the class would be simple. What sort of difficulty could art preset, anyway? And while his work ethic wouldn’t allow him to swap it out for a free period, that’s what he’d treated it as. Maybe that was why Mr. Pentecost, his art teacher, had seemingly began to despise him. It was the only explanation for his need to ruin Hermann’s life. When he handed in a perfect assignment, following the guidelines to the letter, not a paint-stroke out of place, Mr. Pentecost wanted more. He said he wanted Hermann to open up, regardless of his grade. This simply didn’t compute. It was a class, where grades reigned supreme. Hermann had one last chance to gain his perfect score and save his perfect GPA. This final project, a rather vague assignment without any real rubric, was his last chance. No pressure.

It was frustrating, watching other, lesser students- at least in his opinion- do so well while he floundered. Tendo Choi, a scoundrel if ever he’d met one, hardly put any effort forth, so Mr. Pentecost labeled him a minimalist. Even Yancy Becket outperformed him, which was preposterous. Yancy was friendly, sure, and he knew his way around a classroom- in addition to the football field- but Hermann was still much more capable. Frustrating didn’t even begin to describe how he felt when Newton Geiszler- who Hermann had decided was his arch-nemesis in a fit of melodrama- gave him that smug smile and winked as if to say “Wow, Hermann, look how better at this I am than you.”

And that wasn’t even the worst thing about Newton. Not only was he arrogant and rowdy, but Geiszler was well-liked, dare he say popular. He was a clown, and this past year he’d set his sights on Hermann. Every quip made in front of a bustling crowd of students was about him, and Hermann was constantly feeling the idiot’s eyes on him. It was infuriating, but, alas, not only had Newton not actually done anything, he was one of the Academy’s top students. Behind him, of course.

That was why Newton got away with murder. By murder, Hermann meant the unkempt state of his uniform, which was about the same, in his eyes. While Hermann took pride in his own appearance, and presenting himself perfectly, Newton seemed to delight in looking like a bum. His hair was so disheveled Hermann knew he must style it that way, and he almost never had his blazer on. His dress-shirt was wrinkled, the sleeves pushed up, the collar popped, and it never seemed to be tucked into his equally wrinkled trousers. His tie was a travesty, never knotted correctly, sometimes mangled into various types of bows, and he never seemed to wear the proper shoes. The converse that he did wear were scuffed, and all this, all this wasn’t nearly as bad as Newton’s incessant need to draw on himself. Mostly it was giant movie-monsters, like Godzilla, or...well, Hermann was hardly familiar with them. All he knew was that it looked ridiculous.

“Hermann, if you don’t hurry you’ll only be three minutes early to class,” Aleksis Kaidonovsky, his roommate joked. His words were tinged with a thick Russian accent.

“Yes, thank you,” Hermann told the much taller boy, ever polite. He didn’t mind him,  but they definitely weren’t friends. No, Aleksis brought his girlfriend Sasha over much too much for Hermann to like him. Plucking his cane from it’s place next to his bed, Hermann set off from his dorm room.

 

***

Hermann’s first few classes were blessedly lacking in one Newton Geiszler, and the precise elegance of physics, the calming effect of mathematics practically erased his previous stress. While he worked he could pretend he hadn't decided to take art. This had always been true for him. Math just made sense, the predictability of it, the foreseeable outcome.

But after this reprieve was the inevitable crash, and when Hermann came through Mr. Hansen’s door into his history class, it was after a small bout of impatient muttering. He’d gotten trapped behind a bustle of younger girls, all giggles and hair-barrettes, which was uncomfortable enough without adding the ache in his leg from too much standing, and the sound of the bell chiming just after he got to his seat. On time might as well be late, he thought sourly.

“Wow, Gottlieb, didn’t know you could be this late to class without breaking out in hives,” Newton laughed. Hermann didn’t bother reigning in his eye-roll. Mr. Hansen had yet to enter the room.

“Can you be allergic to tardiness?” Tendo asked, taking up a mocking English accent. Hermann didn’t think it sounded anything like him.

“Well, Herms is. See how red his face is getting?”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Hermann,” he corrected.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Herms. I know that. Ya know, it really fits you,” Newton remarked. “It’s like the quintessential ‘bitter old british man’ name. That, or maybe Eustace!”

“Well I think you’re preferred Newt is rather fitting as well. You remind me very much of a slimy amphibian,” Hermann bit back.

But it only made Newt smile. “That was a good one,” he admitted. Hermann felt like screaming, but Mr. Hansen’s entrance stopped the unwelcome impulse.

Shatterdome offered endless options, electives and activities, most of them the best there was to offer, but only three history classes were required to graduate. The year before Hermann had taken the Government class, as expected, but he’d hardly enjoyed it. Still, he did enjoy history, and as this was his last year, he had extra spots for elective classes. AP World History had always been a student favorite, so Hermann had decided to learn what all the fuss was about. He'd not been disappointed. Mr. Hansen was an excellent instructor, expecting hard work, but not miracles, asking difficult, thought-provoking questions, but not humiliating you if you answered incorrectly. The only down-side was his seating arrangement. It was alphabetical, and unfortunately Andrea Gibbs wasn’t in class with them, forcing Hermann to sit directly behind the most irritating person he’d ever met.

“Hey guys,” Mr. Hansen greeted with a winning smile. He was as handsome as ever. Hermann sighed internally at his own inappropriateness. Having a crush on your teacher was hopeless- and pathetic.

“Hiya Herc,” Newt shot back, sweeping his own smile over the class. he hadn’t bothered getting seated. Instead he perched on his desk-top. Hermann clenched his teeth so hard they ached.

“Well, Mr. Geiszler, I think we all know what I’m going to ask, so why don’t you just hop to and save us all the trouble?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Hanson. The year is coming to a close. I probably won't see you again for a while after graduation. How about one last time, you know for nostalgia’s sake?”

Mr. Hansen had his grin well reigned in, but it was still there, and for an odd second Hermann felt just a little jealous. A shake of his head knocked that notion out, easing the way to ignoring that completely for the rest of his natural life.

“Alright Geiszler, bottom in the chair, class has started,” he barked, his light tone betraying what he really thought about Newton’s sense of humour. No one in class had taken that voice seriously since the first time he used it, but Newton still turned, sinking into the seat, grinning all the way.

Clapping once, Mr. Hansen paced to the front of the room. “Okay boys and girls.” And with this, he launched into the lesson, but Hermann’s focus was on the back of Newton’s neck. He’d started with an inspection of his hair, ready to sneer at the sheer amount of product. Then he’d noticed something at the base of his neck, a flash of color, and he became much more interested. It looked like, oh, had Newton gotten a tattoo? Hermann’s stomach knotted, because, first, seeing exactly what the tattoo was would mean seeing Newton without a shirt on, and second, tattoos were strictly prohibited at the academy.

Hermann hid his reflexive scoff. He’d been taught all his life that academia was a vicious world. You were nothing without the respect of your peers, and “body art”, as they called it, came across as rebellious, juvenile. Plus, you’d have to be absolutely idiotic to step into a dingy tattoo parlor and ask them to poke you several thousand times with an ink filled needle with dubious sterilization at best.  

He was so caught up in mentally scolding every tattooed person ever that Mr. Hansen’s question escaped him. Fortunately, Hermann’s inattention was unnoticed at first- or maybe it took them a while to catch on, because it was just so unprecedented.

“Mr. Gottlieb, what do you think?”

“What?” Hermann exclaimed, startled back into focus. At the sound of his confusion, the whole class trained their eyes on him. It was like they’d caught the scent of blood.

Mr. Hansen, forever patient, repeated his question, and Hermann spewed back something about communism. It might have ended there, if he were anyone else but himself, but alas, he was not, and some of his classmates continued to stare intently. He was tempted to go on a rampage with the business end of his cane. Newton particularly glanced back at him several times over the course of the lesson as if he’d grown another head. So he’d been a little late, a little distracted. He wasn’t an alien, he’d just had a bad day.

All the staring reminded him of his first day of middle school, back when he’d first been hurt, the words “irreparable damage” still echoing through his child’s mind. He’d needed crutches then, though the doctors assured him one day all he’d need was a cane, as if that should make him happy.. People had looked at him one or two ways. Either they looked at him like a cautionary tale, all pity and sickly-sweetness, or they looked at him like he was contagious. At least now all they thought was that he’d been replaced with a much less responsible Hermann Gottlieb.

When class finally drew to a close, Hermann was gathering up his books, a veritable acrobatic masterpiece of stumbling and grunts, when Mr. Hansen, who’d learned early in the year just how little help was appreciated strode over to his desk.

“Hermann,” he started. Hermann glanced up, books finally in hand.

“Yes, sir?” Hermann asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“I, well, you’ve been rather distracted,” Mr. Hansen answered, obviously a little uncomfortable even bringing it up.

“Bad day, I guess, sir,” Hermann answered, trying for casualty, leaning heavily on his cane.

“No, no, you’ve been off all week,” he dismissed, mouth pursed in a frown.

“Sir, If my work had been unsatisfactory-” Hermann began, but Hansen waved him off.

“Hermann your work is perfect, as always, but you’re...well I’ve caught you giving Geiszler quite the glare recently. I know he can be a bit of a clown, but if he’s been unduly cruel to you, you’ll let me know, yeah?”

Hermann was sure he’d gone firetruck red. That was the only logical reason for the intense burning in his cheeks. It was embarrassing enough catching himself staring at Newton- but other people had started to notice. Mr. Hansen’s insinuation that Newton was, what, bullying him was a little off. Sure, Newton could be irritating, and he poked fun, but the jokes almost gave Hermann the distinct impression that they didn’t intend to be cruel. He’d never done anything Hermann would have been hurt by, never said anything cruel, like mock his limp. Newton just assumed it was all in good fun. Besides, it was better than the bullies from before, kicking his cane out from under him and calling him cripple.

“No sir, Newton is, of course, irritating, but he’s never gone over the line,” Hermann assured him.

“And I doubt you’d tell me if he did,” Mr. Hansen guessed. “Anyway, Hermann, don’t hesitate to come around, you know, if anything comes up.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Now go. I don’t want to make you merely on time for your next class.”

In fact, Hermann had lunch next period, and as he made his way uncomfortably through the halls to the cafeteria, bag slung sloppily over his shoulder- he hoped no one saw just how flustered he look- the bell rang. This was even worse than just being on time. He had the horrible suspicion that the universe was converging on him, trying its damnedest to ruin his year.

****  
  



	2. So We Were An Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we were an accident  
> You’ll always be my favorite one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary from Motion City Soundtrack's "My Favorite Accident"

Lunch was a chore more than anything for Hermann.. While breakfast was a rather hurried affair- nearly impossibly to be social when you were eating a muffin as fast as humanly possible- and dinner could be skipped, a snack taken up to your room as you studied, there was no escaping people during lunch. Not that Hermann didn’t try to. He’d gotten rather good at glaring just enough to keep people from joining him, out of pity or desperation, either way. To say it was his least favorite time would be apt, so that’s what he said, what he muttered under his breath when Sasha and Aleksis sidled up to him in line.

“Hello Hermann,” Sasha said glancing at him indifferently. Hermann inclined his head to her.

“Hey, roomie,” Aleksis smiled, arm wrapped decisively around Sasha’s waist.

“Hello,” Hermann replied briskly, plucking an apple up and putting it on his tray.

“So, have you heard about Choi’s end of the year party?” Aleksis asked.

“Of course not,” Hermann answered incredulously. How would he have heard about it? Aleksis was one of the only people he spoke to, besides his teachers, and the insults he traded with Newton.

“Well, it’s a week after finals, just before graduation. It wouldn't kill you to come,” he added helpfully.

“Well, it just might,” Hermann replied.

“Every senior is going, really, everyone.”

“Not exactly,” Sasha interrupted.

“What?”

“Hermann’s not going, so that’s not everyone. Right Hermann?” she asked. At least she’d noticed the growing discomfort in his face.

Hermann shot her a grateful look, grabbing his tray back from the lunch-lady with a barely polite thank you. He felt instantly guilty, so when he met eyes with her again he tried to look as contrite as possible. When he’d gotten all his food, Hermann stepped out into the cafeteria, eyes sliding over several crowded tables before landing on an empty one. This way he’d have a chance to look over some notes for one of his last English essays. He was outlining a crown jewel of a paper, and the thought of writing out a few body paragraphs while he ate his sandwich made him forget the party.

Unfortunately, this temporary amnesia came to a surprisingly fast end, as Newton and Tendo plopped into the pair of seats opposite him.

“Herm, old boy, how’s it hanging?” Newton greeted, obnoxious words like a kick to the head. His whole train of thought on Beowulf disintegrated.

“What do you want?” Hermann snapped, deciding that asking them to leave would accomplish nothing, in fact it would only prolong the ordeal.

“Well. ya know, Tendo here lives pretty close to campus, and, uh, his parents are pretty generous, er, people. I was just wondering if-”

“I’m having a huge party in a few weeks. You’re invited. Newton would love for you to show up,” Tendo interrupted Newt’s...well he’d been stuttering, or at least stumbling. That was weird. Newton was one of the most self-assured people Hermann had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

“I’d rather be dragged naked through a patch of brambles,” Hermann replied automatically. Newton barked out a surprised laugh, earning a knowing smile from Tendo. Hermann had the rather unsettling feeling that there was something going on he didn’t know about.

“Well, then I guess we’ll have to ask you to go several more times,” Tendo shrugged. Hermann growled.

“If I say I’ll go, will you leave me alone?” he wondered.

“How about we do you an even better one?” Newton finally asked, regaining his usual laid-back attitude.

“Yes?” Hermann prompted, not enjoying where this conversation was heading.

“Art lessons,” Newton said, as if it was the most magnificent gift a person had ever been offered.

“No!”

The force of his words surprised even him. But the thing was, struggling in art was hard enough without Newton and Tendo offering him help. It didn’t matter that they were both extremely capable students, if a bit nonchalant, it didn’t matter that he needed the help in Mr. Pentecost’s class. Hermann Gottlieb didn’t get help in class. Not even a class where his analytical tendencies were useless.

“You can be really touchy, Herms, I hope you know that,” Newton said, raising his hands in surrender. Hermann gave a rather exaggerated eye-roll.

“Well, Newt and I really have to go, Hermann. Have a great lunch!” Tendo chuckled, grabbing Newt’s arm and pulling him into a standing position.

“Yes, well, go then,” Hermann shooed, lips drawn down in a frown.

He watched the pair stride out of the cafeteria, and he wondered just where they needed to be. Hermann knew for a fact that this was their lunch period, and while it wouldn’t be that odd, Newton opting out of a chance to talk in favor of studying in the library under the watchful eyes of the librarian was a little...unlikely. Taking a bite of his turkey on rye, he tried to predict what a high school party would be like. Sadly, he had little experience with them. He’d seen them on television, but it was well-known just how badly television depicted high school in general. The last party he’d been to had been the birth-day party of a fourth grader, while he, as well, was in fourth grade. He doubted there was any overlap. He didn’t know everything about Tendo, but Hermann wasn’t expecting a pirate themed soiree. He wondered if that would be better than what he already had planned. Probably.

Newton would be at the party, though, so that was a negative, right? Geiszler was insufferable, and though he was sure Aleksis and Sasha would be there, he was also sure that they’d probably be as sickeningly affectionate as usual, although Sasha’s form of affection seemed to be insults and scratching, something Hermann had been unfortunate enough to walk in on one horrible friday night. He had this awful idea that he’d just be left to sit in a corner and watch a bunch of hormone crazy teenagers grind against each other. Plus, Newton would be there. Of course. Hermann rubbed at his ears, suddenly hot, wonderingly. Maybe he was coming down with something. He felt a bit feverish.

***

Art was on the other side of the building, and Hermann never dawdled over lunch, so, about 5 minutes before the period ended, he was up and ready to go. He caught the lunch monitor’s eyes, and after she gave a nod, exited into the hall. Hermann loved the empty hallways, and that was a small part of why he like to be even more than on time.

The walk to Mr. Pentecost’s class room was long, and uncomfortable at best. Hermann had been given the option of using the elevator, but at 13, the thought of getting special treatment had practically made him ill. It was a stupid, proud decision, but he’d never claimed to be clear-minded at 13. Was anyone? The first set of stairs weren’t too hard, narrow as they were, and the railings were delightfully stable. He tackled those in a second, but the next set were a nightmare. The second floor was open, with floor to ceiling windows and an airy floor-plan, and the steps leading down to the first floor only had a stone railing to separate you and the drop to the ground floor. It would’ve been daunting even if he didn’t already have trouble descending.

With a deep breath Hermann took the first step, careful not to peer over the side. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot. The repetition was familiar, and he began reciting prime numbers under his breath as he went. he’d gotten to 263 before he had to turn and head to the next set, descending slowly. The partition was too low, and it was to his right. Useless, he thought bitterly.

Finally reaching the ground floor was like winning a small, repetitive, unimpressive battle by anyone else’s standards, and this was the thought he kept in mind as he navigated the maze of the lower floor. The sound of whistling, bright and shrill confused Hermann. Class was still in session, and not many people, besides himself, were allowed to go about the halls like this.

Turning a corner, Hermann was suddenly faced with the producer of that god-awful whistling. Faced was the wrong word to use. Instead, tackled by, or bowled over by might have worked. They both ended up in a confused, painful sprawl along the floor. Hermann’s first thought, oddly enough, was that he’d have a hard time getting all the dirt from the floor off of his black pants. His second thought, unfortunately, was ow, because his bad leg had struck the floor rather solidly.

Glancing up, Hermann got ready to rain the wrath of god down on his attacker, but Newton’s skewed glasses and wide eyes stopped him. Their legs were all tangled up, and Hermann’s hand was on Newton’s thigh, and he had his cane clutched tightly to his chest.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Newton blurted out, eyes crinkling with his grin.

Hermann huffed, trying to scoot away from the idiot. “Watch where you’re going, Geiszler!” he snapped, pain making his voice sharp.

Newton’s smile slipped instantly. “Oh god, are you alright?” he asked.

Hermann narrowed his eyes. That was one of the most annoying phrase he’d heard about a million times before. it was almost worse than cripple. “You knocked me to the ground. Of course I’m not fine.”

“Do you need me to call medical?” Newton continued, oblivious.

“Do you? You seemed to have hit your head. That or you’re acting stupid for no reason.”

“What?”

“Get off of me!” Hermann growled instead of answering. Newton paled visibly shoving himself up, freeing Hermann to stand as well. That is, he would have been able if Newton didn’t have a death grip on his cane.

“I’d like that back,”  Hermann gestured. Newton shoved it at him, and Hermann, rather peeved, used it to bring himself up on two legs.

“Sorry,” Newton professed.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he answered. He was tempted to proceed with the harsh words and eek as much guilt out of Geiszler as he possibly could, but thought better of it. No reason to waste time on that.

“So, you’re headed to art?” Newton asked.

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“No,” Hermann sighed, anger fading fast. Newton smiled, and when he began down the hallway, opened his mouth to immediately begin talking.

Hermann decided to strike preemptively. “What are you doing wandering the halls while class is still in session?”

“Me and Tendo help Pentecost clean up after the ninth-graders sometimes,” Newton answered.

Hermann narrowed his eyes and Newton continued hastily, “Not for extra-credit or anything. Mr. Pentecost doesn’t offer any. But he’s the GSA advisor.”

“GSA?” Hermann asked. Obviously it was a club, but Shatterdome’s endless list of activities made it hard to keep track of them all. Hermann was in the Latin club, the math club, and the physics club, but he wasn’t sure what GSA was,

“Gay Straight Alliance, although the name’s a little...inaccurate. Not like sexuality is like a switch, a choice between gay or straight,” Newton explained. His words held a rather familiar tone, like he’d said them a lot.

“Yes, well,” Hermann replied, more to fill the silence than anything else. Newton glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

“what do you think about it?” he prompted, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“There’s been ample evidence that several animal species participate in homosexual activity. Solid, empirical evidence,” Hermann supplied. Biology wasn’t his forte, in fact, he found the science a bit chaotic, for him, but admittedly, this issue had been something he’d looked into. Was there a blush creeping into his cheeks? God he hoped not.

“Oh, cool!” Newton exclaimed. Hermann gave him a look.

“Quite.”

“You know,” Newton began after a miniscule pause, seemingly unable to keep quiet, “about Tendo’s party...I expect you’re not exactly the party type. Er, well, considering I’ve known you for a while, I know you’re not the party type. So if you don’t wanna come, I get it. But we’d love for you to show up.”

Hermann gave him yet another look, this one a little more incredulous.

“No, really. I mean, you’re kinda short with people, but they like you. You give as good as you get, and you’re smart. Aleksis, for one, wants you to come.”

The whole idea that people even had an opinion about him was odd. He’d thought he lived rather under the radar. Apparently this was incorrect.

“I will seriously consider it,” Hermann finally acquiesced. Newton grinned.

They walked for a bit longer in blessed silence, turning into the art hallway. the bell rung even as they reached Mr. Pentecost’s room, setting the pair adrift in a sea of underclassmen. Hermann fought through them, struggling into the door and past, hurrying to his seat, right before Mr. Pentecost’s desk. He was sitting there in  wait of the class.

Mr. Pentecost was a study in contrasts. On one hand, he looked rather...fierce with ebony skin, a variety of glares he pulled out only in the worst  situations of disrespect, and a tendency to be, well, 6’3”. On the other hand, he took to wearing comfortable looking fisherman sweaters, there were pictures of his children (presumably) on both his desk and computer, and the wrinkles around his eyes were laugh lines. His glares were renowned, but it was his laugh people remembered. And now, Hermann was aware that he was the GSA advisor.

As the juniors and seniors trickled in, filling up the desks one by one, he stood, coming to the front and folding his arms across his chest, looking utterly comfortable. Hermann admired that. Mr. Pentecost had an easy grace he wasn’t familiar with. It was different with kids his own age. They seemed confident, sure, they certainly postured enough, but even people like Newton used the confidence to hide a layer of insecurity. This was all what Hermann knew, and of course he couldn't read minds, but it seemed accurate.

When the last student was in, pulling the door shut behind them with the ring of the bell, Mr. Pentecost cleared his throat. Beside him, Alison Fitzpatrick straightened, shoving her phone into her pocket.

Smiling calmly, he said, “Hello class.” He got a warm, mumbled reply, not out of the ordinary. “As I said yesterday, the year is drawing to a close, and with it, many of your lives as students. Keeping that in mind, I’d like to talk about your final assignment. Some of you might have heard things about this project, but rumours from people who’ve had me previously won’t actually help you at all.”

A small sigh swept through the room, like that had been what many of them had been counting on. Some only looked excited. Hermann was just worried.

“As you enter the “real-world,” you’ll be dragged through the mud, stabbed in the back, and you’ll achieve things you’d never thought possible. This is...intimidating to a lot of people, to say the very last. You, all of you, have hopes, and dreams, and fears. Your assignment will be to convey to me either your greatest fears, and what you’d hope to achieve more than anything else. “

The class began muttering, everyone drawing in the new information, running it around in their heads, most likely, and Hermann’s thoughts went a mile a minute. That meant...that meant absolutely nothing to him. Where were the guidelines? Did he want a painting? A sculpture? He balled up his fists, resisting the urge to hit something.

“Now, I’m not finished,” Mr. Pentecost interrupted, waiting a few moments for silence to return. “Your project won’t be a lone one. In a moment I’ll be assigning you your partners. They’ll be based on what I’ve observed in class. When you know this, you’ll need to get together for the rest of the class period and decide how you’ll divide the work. I expect two pieces of collaborative work, not two pieces made by two different people and placed near each other just in time for grading. They must compliment each other. Greatest goals, greatest failures.”

This caused a bit more of a stir, as everyone glanced around, talking over each other, obviously wondering what he meant by “what he’d observed in class”. Usually that was code for a teacher assigning you to someone you never spoke to, or interacted with in class. Those assignments were always horrible.

“Before anyone asks, no, there will not be any partner switching. No reassignments for any reason. Keep that in mind when you decide whether to act like an ass just because you don’t like your partner. 35% of your grade depends on your cooperation.” Then, with a burst of volume he said “Alright! Bevan Adams, you’re with Mark K. Eddie Azar, you and Maria. Abigail? it’s you and Martin…”

It continued on like this for a while. Yancy Becket and a girl named Tara were paired up. Tendo ended up with Alison. That made sense. Everyone knew they involved in a rather tumultuous relationship. Alison had a rude comment to tell Hermann about “Man-whore Tendo” every single day. It’d started at the beginning of the semester, when she’d decided they were “art-buddies.” She was another person Hermann tolerated readily. A normal person might consider her a friend, but he thought that might be a strong word for it. Hermann let himself be lulled into a sense of security. Truthfully, he stayed silent a majority of the time in this class- his partner could have been anyone of his classmates.

That was, until Mr. Pentecost got to the G’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot woot, chapter two, a day early. Aren't I great? Anyway, feedback is awesome.


	3. Starving Artists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But I swallowed all my pride and yet I'm still a starving artist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and Summary from Sadistik's "Song For The End Of The World"  
> Also, I listened the cleanwhiteroom's beautiful creation The Superconducting Supercolliders, and you should all check them out.

“Mr.’s Geiszler and Gottlieb, you’ll be paired up.”

Maybe Newt should have expected this. He’d brought Hermann up someway or another at least once a week since September, to anyone who’d listen, or even anyone who’d stand still long enough for him to finish a story. That included GSA meetings, and everyone in them. At first it had seemed casual, and no one had thought much of it, but then, halfway through month two, they'd caught on. Now his friends made a point to point Hermann out in the hallways, or they came to Newton especially with tales of the dour boy’s daily escapades. Hermann Gottlieb wasn't nearly as unassuming or unknown as he liked to think he was. He was bitingly funny when bothered. The masses loved that. With all the activity, mostly centered around embarrassing Newt, Tendo had jokingly asked him if he wanted to invite Hermann to his party. Newt had surprised both of them by saying yes.

Teasing Hermann during class, trading quips and joking around was one thing. Actually having a conversation in which he asked Hermann if he’d like to go way out of his depth just because Newton kinda wanted him to be at a party he was also going to be at was another thing entirely. Maybe it would have been easier if he hadn’t decided to follow the method every elementary boy swore by- relentlessly taunting him.

God he was an idiot.

But he managed to mostly get it out, with some help from Tendo, which was weird. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been unable to get his words out. His father had always said that as soon as Newt started talking, he never stopped. And then he’d practically threw Hermann to the ground in the hallway, and the guilt was crushing, and then when he apologized he realized just how sorry that must’ve been, how patronizing. He’d been the most uncomfortable person in the world just then.  Herms couldn’t be feeling very positively towards him after that. How in the hell were they going to work together?

“This assignment is extremely absurd,” Hermann growled, plopping into the seat Tendo had been occupying just moments ago. Newt felt bad that his sudden immobilization made Hermann get up.

“I don’t know, I’m not that bad,” Newt joked, sending him a smirk that- hopefully- didn’t reveal his own anxiety.

“Oh, not you, you idiot. I mean the...the prompt. What is it supposed to mean? What does he want?” Hermann snapped.

“Uh, that’s the point dude. I mean, when you make art, no one’s actually hovering over your shoulder, telling you what shadowing method to use.”

“This is a class, Newton, not a commune.”

“No use complaining about it, though, right? Let’s just buckle down and start planning.”

“Planning what, hmm? I painting, a...a collage? He never said.”

“Right, so then we decide. I mean, what are you best at? I’m good with watercolors, and my linoleum block turned out pretty good.”

He’d never say it, but he thought Hermann was a pretty promising painter. His attention to detail was astounding, even if his anal retentiveness seemed to stop him in his tracks after every little mistake.

“What am I best at? Nothing, because there’s no discipline.  Even when they teach you technique, no one expects you to follow it. Where’s the structure?”

“We won’t get anywhere with you thinking like that,” Newt countered. The shade of red Hermann turned had him instantly regretting it.

“This is no joking matter, Geiszler. This class is the only thing keeping me from a perfect year,” Hermann told him, turning up his nose, literally turning up his nose, at him.

“Well, fine, if we can’t decide on a medium, we can at least decide on, on a theme. What’s your greatest fear?”

Considering this was the first real conversation they were having, the topic wasn’t preferable. When Newt had imagined this, it had been a little more...casual, maybe a conversation about what they'd made in the cafeteria, or a series of jokes about the sideburns Tendo was trying to grow. This was a little...heavy.

“What’s your greatest fear?” Hermann countered.

Newton shrugged, pursing his lips in thought. It wasn’t a necessarily fair question. Also, he was experiencing that odd blankness that made it hard to answer, like he’d forgotten everything that had ever scared him. It was what kept him from deciding what he wanted to do with his life, or what his favorite book was.

“Uh...spiders maybe,” he shrugged noncommittally.

“I think mine is large trucks,” Hermann replied, looking a bit uneasy.

“OKay, well, what’s your goal, your wildest dream, or whatever,” Newt asked. He wasn’t sure how they would combine spiders and an 18-wheeler without it looking like a cheap horror movie.

“I’m going to become a physicist,” Hermann responded promptly. That was much easier than the previous question.

“Cool. Well, I wanna be a biologist, and maybe, like a couple other things. I guess I’ll figure that out later. But my wildest dream is performing live in a packed stadium of people who came especially just to see me,” Newt admitted, voice soft.

“I’m sorry? Perform what?”

“Uh...well, I’m gonna start a band.”

“Like a rock band? Newton, that’s an entirely impractical idea.”

“I did say it was my wildest dream, not my career plan,” Newt muttered. He was a little tired of the condescension, of the little comments about wasted potential. What was wrong with  old people- and Hermann?

“Oh, whatever! How are we going to express these things in a conceivable piece of art?” Hermann’s voice was verging on desperate, and Newt could admit, at least to himself that his own feelings weren’t that far off. He wasn’t aiming for perfect, but he didn’t want to get a mediocre grade just because he could collaborate with Uptight McStickUpHisAss.

“Maybe we could construct some sort of mechanical spider with wheels instead of legs,” Newt suggested.

“Or perhaps we could make something that doesn’t sound idiotic!”

“If you had a dream that actually sounded like a dream instead of a guidance counselor's wildest fantasy this wouldn’t be so hard,” Newt snapped.

“Oh, maybe I should have said I wanted to be a clown! That’s like yours, right?”

“A clown? Try a famous, wealthy musician. When was the last time a physicist married Gwyneth Paltrow?”

“Who is Gwyneth Paltrow?”

“Oh my god! You’re a robot, that’s what it is, isn’t it! You’re some kind of AI experiment right? Because you can’t be a real person!” Newt exclaimed, breathing heavily. “Do you even know who David Bowie is? Queen? Have you ever heard music? Do you see colors?”

“What are you prattling on about?” Hermann growled, blush spreading across his cheeks.

Newt realized his voice might be getting a tad loud, maybe unreasonably so, but he needed solid evidence that Hermann wasn’t a robot, because there had been no recognition when he brought up Queen, and if he had no idea who Freddie Mercury was, he honestly couldn’t be human.

“Please, you’ve at least heard of Brian May, right? I mean, he’s an astrophysicist!”

“I’m not…:

Throwing up his arms, Newt shoved back his chair. This was ridiculous. How could he like Hermann? He was emotionless, and tasteless. What was wrong with him? Without a second thought, Newton stalked to the door. The expected reprimand from Mr. Pentecost didn’t come, and he closed the door behind him a relieved sigh. he respected Pentecost, and he didn’t want to outright defy him, but he just couldn’t be in that  room anymore, not with that out of touch maniac.

***

“I don’t think your strategy for winning dear Hermann’s heart is working out, friend,” Tendo commented, shooting Newt a well-deserved look of warning. He wasn’t wrong, but that did nothing to dampen the flare of anger he felt.

“I don’t-” he started, voice sharp. Stop, he thought, breathe. Tendo doesn’t mean anything by it. “He’s really clueless, you know? I’m trying to help him and he’s acting like an ass, going on about how art sucks and math is great, or whatever!”

“Yeah, I know. You guys weren’t exactly quiet. Although I don’t remember the phrase, “art sucks and math is great” coming up.”

“Well, that’s his fault,” Newt muttered.

“Hells yeah! That’s what I call the attitude of a winner,” Tendo exclaimed with mock cheer.

They’d been making the journey back to their dorm, taking their time to cross the quad. the summer sun had coaxed plenty of other people out, and the sidewalk was littered with students. Their progress stalled when Tendo grabbed Newt’s elbow, drawing him off the path to the shade of a stunted yellowwood tree.

“This love sick puppy thing is cute and all, but I’m done being love guru! Newton, you need to step up your game before school ends and you never see the nerd again,” Tendo hissed.

“Since when did you gain love guru status?” Newt wondered.

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

“I’m not! I just- what do you want me to do, huh? He wouldn’t know flirting if it punched him in the face.”

“That’s your problem bucko. Now, get this…”

Tendo ran head long into the topic of Alison Fitzpatrick, and just why he needed to get her to fall head over heels in love with him. Newt had heard the rant in it’s entirety before, so he felt comfortable shifting his thoughts to something else, namely, Hermann Gottlieb.

Frustrating was an understatement. but then, Hermann was a frustrating sort of person, wasn't he? Maybe being paired with him wouldn’t be so bad. It would mean a lot of one-on-one time, and if they worked through the instinct to argue, Newt was convinced they’d hit it off. How couldn’t they? He was the very essence of charm. Wow, that’d been...arrogant.

Hermann probably didn’t want arrogance, right? Granted, Hermann could use a slice of  humble pie himself, but his arrogance was off hand, sort of unintentional, stated like fact. He begrudgingly admitted it was slightly endearing. There was a lot of things about Hermann he found endearing.

It’d been too long since he’d been with anyone. The fact that he lived vicariously through his friends made that apparent. It really shouldn’t be that hard. he was pansexual, an identity he’d discovered and almost immediately adopted in ninth grade, so it wasn't like he was limited to any one group of people, but at the moment, all he felt was Hermann-sexual, which was weird.

***

Thought’s of Hermann followed Newton to his dorm room, to breakfast the following day, and all through his morning classes. He’d gotten a bit emotional about polynomials, in fact, and it left him feeling distracted and lost. If his friends noticed, they pretended not to, and for that he was extremely grateful. Even Tendo left him alone to glower away. By history, a class he usually enjoyed, Newton was strung tighter than his jeans.

“Newton, if you could refrain from sitting on my desk, that'd be great.”

Speak of the be-sweatered devil. Newt had been mulling over his troubled thoughts, chin resting on his palm, butt planted firmly on Hermann’s desk when he entered.

“Wow, you’ve never been, erm, less early two days in a row before,” Newt replied, trying to sound as relaxed and casual as possible. He wondered just how a from his mark he’d landed.

“Yes, that’s true,” Hermann admitted, biting his lip.

“You’re disrupting the natural order,” Newt joked.

“Maybe it could use a bit of disruption,” he muttered.

Newt wondered if anyone had heard that. He hoped someone had heard that, because that small comment had just made history. The idea of Hermann rejecting order was bizarre. He might as well have declared himself an anarchist and gotten his tongue pierced.

“Well there you go again,” Newton said.

“Hello class,” Mr. Hansen exclaimed as he entered. Newt scooted off Hermann’s desktop and into his own chair, suddenly not in the mood to joke around at all. No, right now Newt would rather think about his own imaginary relationship with someone who was most likely uninterested.  

Lunch came in no time, but Newt wasn't hungry so much as he was nauseous. Not really conducive of a good meal. He tagged along with Tendo, watching his friend’s tray fill up, but not really seeing it.

“Are you doing that love sick thing again?” Tendo asked. Newt nodded.

“Okay, then I’m giving you an ultimatum- are you ready for my ultimatum?” Newt shot him an ugly look. “You seem ready,” Tendo quipped.

“Just tell me already!”

“If you don’t go over there and talk to him I won’t speak to you again for the rest of our fabulous exciting lives. I’m ready not into having a silent, moopy side-kick.”

“That’s not fair. he probably hasn’t even heard Beyonce. What will we talk about?

“Did you plan on only talking about Beyonce?”

“No- you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do… But you could talk about the art project,” he reminded him.

“What, so we could argue relentlessly?”

“Hell yeah. Build up some sexual tension. He’ll be putty in your hands,” Tendo advised.

“You’re an idiot,” Newt snapped.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but you’re the one who fell in love with Gottlieb, so get over there and talk to him!”

“Fine. But if I do this you owe me.” Tendo snorted, and Newton took that as the only agreement he needed.

Once they’d gotten out of line the pair parted ways. Tendo to go and tell all their friends what an adorable loser he was, and Newt to go bother an antisocial teenage boy named Hermann. He tried to think about less painful things, like jumping into an active volcano, or parent’s weekends. He slid into one of the many empty chairs at Hermann’s table, bracing himself for the worst while simultaneously trying not to look like he was bracing himself for the worst. It was a real struggle.

“What do you want?” Hermann asked, raising a single brow incredulously.

“Uh...just to talk…” Newton got out, swallowing hard through the lump in his throat.

“Oh? Would you like to name more famous people I don’t know?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, I looked into...Brian May last night, along with his associated band. it seems they’ve been around for a fairly long time. It might be possible that my not knowing about them is bizarre.”

Newt was almost speechless, but, still being Newt, he managed to get in a few words. “Did you listen to any of their music?”

“What? Of course not. I was on a library computer. It would have been an abuse of privilege to stream music,” Hermann tutted, sounding exactly sixty years old. Newt was sure he’d be a cool sixty year old, one who said inappropriate things and gives money to youngsters. He wondered if he’d start calling people youngsters.

“You’re so weird, dude,” Newt told him.

“Yes, yes I know.”

“By the way, if you want a little help with the whole pop-culture thing, I’m always willing,” Newt suggested.

“I’m sure I’d rather stick with  producing a cohesive pair of art-pieces for Mr. Pentecost’s class.”

“Same here. Actually, that’s part of what I’d like to talk to you about. Pentecost’s gonna give us class time, obviously, but you and I both know this isn’t going to work if we don’t do some outside work.”

“Of course. I’m willing to put in the time, especially considering the weight of this assignment.”

“We should get together outside of class,” Newt told him. Had his voice just cracked? Oh, god, was he blushing?

Thankfully, Hermann didn’t seem to notice. “That’s agreeable. We can continue to meet at lunch, and for a brief time after school, although I do have studying to do.”

“Wow. For whatever reason, I can't picture you needing to study,” he admitted.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermann said, lips quirking in an almost smile. “While, admittedly, mathematics, physics, etcetera do come naturally, literary analysis and Latin are less of a strength.”

“Of course you take Latin! You have that dead language vibe going for you.”

“Oh? And what would you have me take?”

“I don’t know, Spanish? Mandarin? German?”

“I’m already fluent in German, and my Spanish is...passable. Besides, Mandarin conflicts with my only lunch opportunity. while I’d happily make the sacrifice, my guidance counselor is not nearly so willing,” Hermann explained.

“I didn’t know you spoke German,” Newton said.

“Fairly well, actually. Gottlieb isn’t just a take-away from German ancestors. I was born there, lived there for a time as a child, before moving to England. Recently, as of four years ago, we moved to America.”

“We? You mean your family?”

Hermann frowned, offering a terse nod. Newt pondered that response before settling on leaving this topic alone.

“I- I’m from Germany too actually. My family is. There’s a reason I don’t take German either.” The last part was a seamless, or at least hopefully seamless transition from English to German, and he gave Hermann a look that conveyed his wish for the other boy to be at least mildly impressed. Hermann managed to look fairly intrigued.

“Isn’t it funny?”

“Excuse me?” Hermann responded.

“I mean, we’ve known each other for at least a year, or rather, we’ve spoken to each other for a year, and we hardly know anything about each other. Like, what’s your favorite color? Mine’s red, sometimes blue.”

Hermann paused, and Newt wondered if he was going to dismiss the exercise altogether.

“Gold, I should think, or perhaps green,” he answered after a beat.

“Gold and green. Cool, solid choices. So, if you don’t listen to the heart wrenching vocals of Freddie Mercury, what kind of music do you listen to?”

“I fear that if I tell you you’ll blow it out of proportion and insult me. You seem to do that quiet in a lot.”

“Why? Oh, god, you listen to some oldies crap right? Or like, Simon and Garfunkel, right?”

“I enjoy classical music. Of the baroque period, in case you needed that distinction.”

“Oh, Bach, Vivaldi? That’s respectable, if a bit predictable.”

“Not predictable enough for you to have guessed it right away,” Hermann countered. Newt nodded, giving him a lopsided grin.

“Alright, Herms. How about this, I won’t call you predictable if you start calling me Newt.”

“I…” Hermann paused, seeming to run the deal through a few rounds of analysis before he nodded. “Deal.”

Newt outstretched his hand, almost like he meant to shake Hermann’s hand, but when the other half of this new deal returned the favor, Newt gripped it, and began executing a rather complicated one-sided hand-shake.

Hermann grimaced, but his look of disdain couldn’t extinguish Newt’s grin.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! So I guess Thursdays are chapter days now, because it just works out so much better like this. Anyway, yeah. I've been having sort of a tough time, mental health wise, so just as a warning, next chapter might be late. That's not set in stone, so don't hold me to that though.  
> As always, feedback is welcome.


	4. I Need To Get Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I need to get strong, and if memory serves I’m addicted to words and they’re useless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary and title from LG Faud by Motion City Soundtrack. Check them out if you haven't already.

That had been an overreaction. Actually, it had been among one of the biggest overreactions he’d ever seen, which was saying something. When you lived with Lars Gottlieb- or no, better not.

Newton’s anger was uncharacteristic of  him. His usual response to things that got him worked up was to joke about it, or raise his voice to a level of shrillness that couldn’t be comfortable. So an outburst about what he guessed was his knowledge of pop-culture was definitely out of the ordinary. How had something so inconsequential garnered that much anger? To say Newton surprised him was like saying a case of spontaneous combustion was a surprise.

Maybe Hermann shouldn’t have let Newton’s behavior get to his head. It was too late to stop it, though, so Hermann stewed. he worked through mathematical proofs and he googled Brian May, even thought about taking notes, but tossed the idea out quickly enough. All questions from Aleksis were only half answered, and he went to bed earlier than usual, sleeping fitfully. it was a bad end to what could be chalked up to an unsatisfactory day.

The next morning he tried to put it behind him, tried to be lulled into the logic of classes and schedules and square roots, but to no avail. He wondered, not for the first time, why Newt’s feelings mattered to him at all, why he felt like the episode had been his fault.

History was just another opportunity for awkwardness, although a rather quiet Newt prevented any actual challenges. Newton sat in his seat like a normal person with hardly any prompting. He answered questions brusquely, without a ridiculous opinion, irresponsible assumption, or wild accusation to be found. Hermann was reminded of the day that Newton had called Gandhi a “reptilian overlord sent by his people to brainwash the human race into a race of pacifists ready to take their invasion lying down!”  While Mr. Hansen had agreed that Gandhi had not been a saint by any means, he had refrained from affirming the theory that he was a scaly alien.

When class was over Hermann left feeling vaguely uncomfortable. It wasn’t really a history lesson without Mr. Hansen correcting Newton’s views at least twice, and Hermann making a few snide comments under his breath.

Hermann gathered his lunch tray, turkey sandwich, apple, technicolor jello, and took his empty table. Something about unnaturally colored food appealed to him. Call it his guilty pleasure, but jello, cheetos, products with more dyes in it than ingredients, were some of his favorites. Thankfully, he had enough strength of will not to actually indulge in the temptation, but on the rare occasion that the cafeteria did serve something thoroughly unhealthy, Hermann usually had some.

Newton’s presence came as only a small surprise, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good one or a bad one.  

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to hold on to just a little of yesterday’s righteous anger.

“Uh...just to talk…” Newt said.

“Oh, would you like to name more famous people I don’t know?” Hermann had never cared about celebrities before. The tabloids hadn’t interested him, but now he found himself wishing for a little bit of common ground.

“Uh...no,” Newt muttered, looking a little guilty. That was irritating. Maybe a bit of a shock would wipe the pity off his face.

“I looked into Brian May last night, along with his associated band. It seems they’ve been around for a rather long time. It might be possible that me not knowing about them is a little bizarre.”

It was a uncomfortable to admit, but Hermann had been a little stupid...musically at least. He’d hoped his pronouncement might, perhaps stall Newt for a while, but he was Newt, so instead, he asked immediately, “Did you listen to any of their music?”

Now that was stupid. “What? of course not. I was on a library computer. it would have been an abuse of privilege to stream music.” Honestly, where had Newton’s sense of responsibility gone, and why wasn’t he putting up flyers to search for it?  Hermann had been conscientious since preschool.

“You’re so weird, dude,” Newt replied.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Hermann snapped. Could he be anything but rude?

“By the way, if you want a little help with the whole pop-culture thing, I’m always willing,” Newt suggested.

“I’m sure I’d rather stick with producing a conceivable pair of art-pieces for Mr. Pentecost’s class,” Hermann answered.

Newt nodded, eyes crinkling with a conspiratorial smile, “Same here. actually, that’s part of what I’d like to talk to you about. Pentecost’s gonna give us class time, obviously, but you and I both know this isn’t going to work if we don’t do some outside work.”

“Of course I’m willing to put in the time, especially considering the weight of this assignment.” Like that wasn’t exactly what Hermann was considering. Why else would he spend extra time with Newton?

“We should get together outside of class,” Newt suggested, a blush rose along his cheeks, and Hermann tried, with mild to moderate difficulty not to point it out.

Feeling successful, Hermann responded “That’s agreeable. We can continue to meet at lunch, and for a brief time after school, although I do have studying to do.”

With a jerk, Newt leaned forward, hands folding in front of him, although that hardly stopped his constant fidgeting. “Wow. For whatever reason I can't picture you needing to study.”

Hermann almost smiled at Newt’s high opinion of him. “Don’t be ridiculous. While, admittedly, mathematics, physics, etcetera do come naturally, literary analysis and Latin are less of a strength.” He was human after all. No one just knew things, and even a genius needed to learn the knowledge they procured.

Was referring to himself as a genius in his thoughts arrogant?

“Of course you take Latin! You have that dead language vibe going for you.”

What did that mean?

“Oh? And what would you have me take?” Hermann posited the question cautiously.

“I don’t know, Spanish? Mandarin? German?” All Newton was doing was listing all the languages Shatterdome offered this year. Last year there had been a french class, but without the proper amount of interest, they’d dropped it.

“I’m already fluent in German, and my Spanish is...passable. Besides, Mandarin conflicts with my only lunch opportunity. while I’d happily make the sacrifice, my guidance counselor is not nearly so willing,” Hermann explained.

“I didn’t know you spoke German,” Newton said. He sounded a little surprised. But it wasn’t like the pair held intense conversations about their individual lives.

“Fairly well, actually. Gottlieb isn’t just a take-away from German ancestors. I was born there, lived there for a time as a child, before moving to England. Recently, as of four years ago, we moved to America,” Hermann offered, nonetheless.

“We? You mean your family?”

Hermann frowned, offering a terse nod. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was telling Newton his life story. Actually, yes, he was. He was sure that he didn’t want to talk about his father, his siblings, his mother. These were topics he wanted to steer clear of, topics he wanted to avoid at all costs because, Newton was just Newton. He was someone Hermann insulted and was insulted by occasionally. He wasn’t a confidant.

“I- I’m from Germany too actually,” Newt told him, smiling hopefully. Obviously he was picking up on Hermann’s hesitance.  “My family is. There’s a reason I don’t take German either.” The last part was in German. Hermann raised his brows, feeling an uncomfortable balance of surprise and admiration.

They were silent for a beat or two before Newton spoke again. Of course it was Newton to break the silence.  “Isn’t it funny?”

“Excuse me?” Hermann asked, a little distracted by his own thoughts to respond to Newton’s. The problem with that, though, was that, typically, Newton voiced his thoughts, whether he was alone or speaking to someone else.

“I mean, we’ve known each other for at least a year, or rather, we’ve spoken to each other for a year, and we hardly know anything about each other. Like, what’s your favorite color? Mine’s red, sometimes blue.”

Hermann paused, pondering whether to bother with the non sequitur.  

“Gold, I should think, or perhaps green,” he decided.

“Gold and green. Cool, solid choices. So, if you don’t listen to the heart wrenching vocals of Freddie Mercury, what kind of music do you listen to?”

Hermann tried to ignore the rapid change of topic, acknowledging that this was just one of Newton’s quirks. His brain worked too fast to respect common social niceties. He pointedly pretended not to remember the times when he’d done just the same.

“I fear that if I tell you you’ll blow it out of proportion and insult me. You seem to do that quiet in a lot,” Hermann pointed out.

“Why? Oh, god, you listen to some oldies crap right? Or like, Simon and Garfunkel, right?” There it was, the judgement. Newton could be so pretentious.

“I enjoy classical music. Of the baroque period, in case you needed that distinction.”

“Oh, Bach, Vivaldi? That’s respectable, if a bit predictable.”

He suspected he should've been outraged, but instead he just shrugged and countered, “Not predictable enough for you to have guessed it right away.”

Realizing the logic of his argument, Newt nodded, grinning crookedly. It really was sort of charming, the way he smiled.

"Alright, Herms. How about this?" Newton began, "I won't call you predictable if you start calling me Newt."

"I..." He stopped. It seemed simple enough, but he also liked to annoy Newton. Why he insisted on disliking his given name was beyond Hermann. Besides, what exactly was he getting out of it. He wasn't predictable, really he wasn't, and why should he care what Newton thought anyway? All this flew through his head rather quickly, but even though he'd been very sure he'd say no, Hermann nodded.

"Deal."

Why was he agreeing to this stupid, inconsequential deal? Why was he so angry that he was? Just a few days of overexposure to Newton had increased his  impulsivity tenfold, along with his mood swings.

Hermann's hand met Newton's outstretched one for what he'd assumed would be a handshake, like what a normal person did, but the idiot launched into an overly-complicated string of gestures. Special handshake, he thought incredulously. Hermann grimaced. Newton smiled.

"Deal."

***

Hermann couldn’t help thinking that this should have made things easier. It was, in fact, the only thing going through his mind as he sat in the headmaster’s office, staring pointedly at Newton, red paint plastering his hair to his head, while Newton played with his tie, avoiding the headmaster's eyes.

It had started during the walk to art class. They’d left the cafeteria together, Hermann keeping pace with Newton mostly because his legs weren't long enough to take him very far. He told the shorter boy this, earning a sharp bark of laughter.

“Oh, you’re funny Gottlieb,” Newton scoffed. Did he think he could play off the amusement?”

“Yes, I’ve been told I can be very funny occasionally. “

“Who told you that? You should talk to them, because it's not polite to lie.” Hermann rolled his eyes.  

They’d been laughing, joking. But then they reached the stairs. Again, Hermann got past the first set, able to ignore how quickly Newton got down, the way the other boy stared as he descended. He could do that. He’d been excusing pity, ignoring it, for a very long time. It was the second set of steps that mucked everything up. Newt flew down those without a second thought, and Hermann wondered how he couldn’t feel the envy like a physical presence. He struggled down, cane helping to keep him steady, and made it halfway before either spoke a word.

“Do you need some help?” Newton asked, watching him from the bottom, his stupid face all tight with concern. The shame was second only to the anger that surged up from Hermann’s belly.

“No!” Hermann growled, taking another cautious step.

“Hey, wow, not a problem dude.”

Hermann ignored him, hobbling to the landing, wincing from the strain of speeding up. He swung around the railing climbing down a step, trying and failing to put some distance between them.

“Herms, slow down. Let me help,” Newton pleaded.

“I don’t need your help, Newton. Shockingly, I’ve gotten by my whole life without anyone's help.”

When Hermann was angry, there was two ways he behaved, and how he was going to be angry always differed with the situation. Sometimes he could be self-righteous and outraged, indignation coloring each word, and this was safe, this was how he dealt with unfair grades and bullies, small slights. But then there was the shameful anger, like a wounded animal clawing at anything that came near. His eyes filled up with tears and his voice cracked. He only came across this around his father. Except his throat was thick with shame now. He was feeling lower than dirt because part of him knew that Newt was only trying to help him. Unfortunately, a larger part of him wanted to save his dignity.

It was a miracle that Newt didn’t press, instead resigning himself to going slowly down the steps and avoiding all eye contact. He didn't speak for the rest of the walk, and Herman was glad. He just wanted some peace and quiet verdammt, and the press of bodies that appeared with the bell didn't help at all.

Mr. Pentecost sat behind his desk, looking much more happy than Hermann liked. This might just be a symptom of the resentment he was harboring against the art teacher, though, because it wasn't like the man was giggling and singing, he just wasn’t frowning.

A travesty, Hermann thought bitterly.

He began to head for his usual desk when the chalk on the board came to his attention. “Sit with your partners,” it directed, and Newton had already sat down. With an admittedly over-dramatic huff, Hermann collapsed into Tendo’s usual chair. The desk still held scattered art supplies, a pile of rubber shavings, and a pot of red paint. Obviously the freshman hadn’t bother to clean up after themselves.

“Listen, Hermann, you don’t have to-” Newton began, but Hermann stopped him with a raised hand.

Withering glare in place, he turned to the other boy. “If you’re going to tell me I have nothing to be ashamed about, Newton, save your breath. A practical stranger telling me how I should feel hasn’t worked before. it won’t work now.” Hermann felt like he’d said this about a thousand times and thousand different ways since his accident, and it was never any less true.

“Well you don’t,” Newt snapped anyway. ‘There’s nothing wrong with accepting help. It doesn’t make you any less.”

“How would you know?” Hermann shot back angrily.

Newt opened his mouth to reply, but before he could Mr. Pentecost began class.

“You have today to work on the final, obviously. And I expect to see some brain-storming. Don't jump in before you’re ready.”

“Anyway…” Newt said, voice small. Obviously he wanted to abandon their previous conversation. “I was think, you know, we really need to revisit the subject matter. We can't construct a spider-truck.”

“Amd what’s wrong with the goal section?” Hermann snapped irritably.

“Oh...nothing, not really. Actually I’ve got an idea for that part.

Hermann rolled his eyes. “Yes, let’s hear it then, the idea that’ll save us from certain doom.”

“Seriously, Hermann, I don’t know what your problem is. I was trying to help you!”

“I didn't ask for your help. You don’t understand-”

“Oh shut up! Hermann you’re not the only person with problems!”

“How difficult your life must be, deciding whether you’re going to be pretentious about music, or pretentious about pop-culture. Gosh, Newton, have you strained yourself?” Hermann asked with mock concern. He gripped the edge of the desk tightly, feeling the urge to smack Newt across the face.

Newton’s face began turning a painful shade of red, but Hermann took no notice.

“It’s funny, because, last I checked, you skated by on life like it was a game, not even bothering to pretend you needed to work at anything. Truthfully, I don’t think you've had a difficult day in your whole, stupid little life.”

“Shut up!”

“Excuse me?” Hermann hissed, narrowing his eyes.

“Shut Up! Oh my god shut up!” Newt shouted.

“Oh yes, yell louder than me, because that’ll make everything go away!”

With speed Hermann hadn’t known Newton possessed, the shorter boy grabbed the pot of red paint, upending it onto his head. He felt the cold, thick paint sluice down his neck , covering everything. He gasped, shoving out of his chair, nearly landing on his back side as he tried to get away from that blasted idiot.

“What is wrong with you?” Hermann cried, scratching at his eyes to keep from going blind.

“Both of you, outside, right now.” the words came from the corner, quiet, calm. Mr. Pentecost hadn't raised his voice, hadn’t even gotten out of his seat, but neither of them even thought about questioning him. They both hurried out into the hall. Hermann felt like he was on the way to his executioner.

He’d never been in trouble in his whole school-career. Hermann Gottlieb hadn’t been to the headmaster's office once. Newton had ruined everything.

Maybe he should’ve hit him while he still had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update. I've been having a pretty tough time mental-health wise, and tbh this isn't a priority. I will, of course, try my damnedest to update regularly, but what happens happens. Feedback is encouraged.


	5. The Lines Have Been Drawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You never come through when the pressure is on. You're covered in sweat, you're thinking too much. You're losing you're cool, and you're losing your touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary from Bowling for Soup's "Choke"

“I don’t know what you two think you’re doing, but your behavior is inexcusable.”

Pentecost had mastered the art of understated anger. His glare was stern, but he didn’t raise his voice a stitch. This made Newt’s fear a little inexplicable. At least, if you were an outside party who’d never been the subject of the large art teacher’s wrath, it was inexplicable. But Newt felt small under the heavy stare, smaller than usual. On the plus side Hermann looked like he was cowed by it just as much as him. Good.  

“Sir-” Hermann began, and Newton got ready for the ass-kissing of the century, or at least to be blamed completely for the situation.

Pentecost was having none of that. “Quiet Gottlieb. I’m not done speaking,” he snapped. Hermann shut his mouth with an audible click.

“I expect results. You will  work together, and you will behave in a civilised manner in my classroom. I paired you together for a reason. That is, I paired you together because your talents complement one another’s.  I don’t care how you do it, but you will do the project.”

“Understood, sir,” Hermann said. God, all that was missing was a freaking salute.

“Well figure it out, Mr. P,” Newt said. His shoulders hunched as Pentecost trained his eyes on him.

“I know that. Now, headmaster’s office.”

***

The ended up with a warning, which Newt thought was a little too  lenient, but Hermann had never actually been in trouble before, and Newt was pretty sure he’d been fighting back tears. The headmaster had obviously felt bad for them, looking as sorry as they did- which was mostly due to the lecture they’d gotten from Mr. Pentecost- and so they left the office as free men.

They didn’t talk for a long time, and Newton was considering taking a different way back when Hermann turned to him, face twisted in a mask of discomfort.

“We don’t have to get along, but I do need a perfect grade on this project. Mr. Pentecost obviously hasn't thought this partnership through. But he does seem very determined for us to make it work. He also said we wouldn’t get to switch.”

“Mr. Pentecost doesn’t do anything without thinking it through,” Newt replied. Hermann’s need to criticize everyone who wasn’t exactly like him, who didn’t do exactly as he liked was infuriating. He couldn’t have been more narrow-minded if he tried. Newt realized that his sudden annoyance with basically everything Hermann did was only anger. He’d been enamored with him just a few hours previous. But it didn’t change what’d been said, it didn’t change just how self-centered and pitiful Hermann had acted. Newton had learned a while ago that feeling sorry for yourself was a waste of time. No one else was going to.

“Well, you certainly have a high opinion of him,” Hermann muttered.

“And you have a high opinion of yourself! So what?”

“Nothing.”

The stewed in tense silence for a bit, but as soon as the path forked, Newt was jogging off, away from Hermann. The other boy wouldn’t complain.

Tendo was back at their shared room, bobbing his head along to the beat of a song Newt couldn't hear as he scribbled out some math work. He glanced up when his roommate entered, sending an odd look his way.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Oh, hello to you too,” Newt grunted, bad mood looking like it was there to stay.

“R-ight, hi, whatever,” Tendo waved him off. “What happened?”

“Hermann Gottlieb happened, the bastard.”

“That’s definitely a change of tone,” was all Tendo said, thank god.

“It’s like, he’s so wrapped up in feeling bad about his own life that he can’t bother to let anyone else in. He’s insufferable.”  With a groan, Newt collapsed onto his bed to commence glaring up at the ceiling and pretending it was Hermann.

***

“If we just...don’t talk to each other...I don’t know, maybe we could get through the whole assignment in silence,” Hermann told himself.

Aleksis took it as an invitation. “Considering Geiszler’s mouth, I doubt you’ll get through a day of silence.”

“Why does everyone think this is a joke?” Hermann snapped.

“Probably because of the shade of red your face turns when you talk about him,” Sasha said from the desk. Her laptop was open, as she typed rather aggressively.

“Can’t you do your homework in your own dorm room?” Hermann asked.

“No. Alison has invited everyone in our hall to complain about Tendo and watch musicals.”

“Musicals? Alright, I don’t blame you…”

“I’m surprised at how unsurprised I am that you hate musicals, the both of you,” Aleksis tutted, shaking his head.

Hermann scoffed. “I bet Newton just adores musicals.” The look on their faces made him regret saying that. Could he think of nothing but that stupid boy? Obviously not.

***

The next day in school, it seemed the whole student body had been informed about Newt and Hermann’s little disagreement. it was unbearable, being watched as intensely as he was. Hermann kept checking his reflection, expecting to find something wrong. They were hardly the first people to fight. Why hadn’t everyone decided to follow Tendo around with their eyes, or Alison? Those two certainly had a love/hate relationship? He didn’t want to be dramatic, but it felt like the universe was campaigning against his happiness, or at least his basic comfort.

It didn’t help that Alison had taken it upon herself to redefine their friendship. Now it meant more, for whatever god awful reason. She’d escorted him to most of his classes, smiling and talking brightly. When he’d asked her just what she was doing she said,

“Duh, I’m making sure Newt doesn’t bother you. He and that weasel Choi won’t come near you if you’re not alone.”

“What would they do to me?’ Hermann asked incredulously. He seriously doubted they would try to physically harm him. They weren’t the type.

“I don’t know. You know how those two are. They think they’re hilarious. “

Well, she wasn’t wrong. “Yes, I’m aware of how much they value themselves.”

“Exactly. It’s like the word pretentious was made especially with them in mind. Seriously, Tendo prides himself on how many bands he listens to that I’ve never heard of, the asshole,” Alison snapped.

“I know the feeling.”

“Well, good luck,” Alison told him.

“I’m sorry?”

“History class, you have it with both of them, right? Good luck.”

“Oh, yes, thank you.”

Hermann squinted after her, rushing off to her own class, wondering just what she thought she’d get from being his friend. Hopefully she wasn’t looking for anything more than someone to vent to, because he had nothing more he wanted to give her. Admittedly, it was nice to complain to someone who wasn’t completely uninterested, like Sasha, or someone who thought it was funny, like Aleksis.

“Hey, asshole,” Newt greeted when he made it to his seat.

“Watch your mouth,” Hermann growled, not bothering to turn around. Newt did seem to do a lot of talking to Hermann’s back.

“How can I watch my mouth if its on my face?” Newt countered. he didn’t seem fully invested in the quip, like he just wanted to get the conversation out of the way.

Hermann sighed. “What do you want?” he asked.

“We’re gonna pin down a subject next art class, no matter what happens. I don’t care how you feel about this whole “working together” thing.”

“Fantastic, excellent plan,” Hermann replied sharply.

“Listen, you don’t want a bad grade any more than-”

“I was agreeing with you, you fool.”

“Maybe lay off the sarcasm,” Newton advised.

“Ironic you should say that.”

“Alright guys, let’s get down to business.”

After history, Alison met him outside, knapsack slung over her shoulder. She looked rather cheery. Hermann didn’t even bother pretending he felt the same. When she prodded him he only shook his head.

“Let me guess, the gruesome twosome had something to say.”

“You could definitely say that,” Hermann answered vaguely.

“Well, did you give them a piece of your mind?”

“It’s hardly appropriate to do something like that in class.”

“You freaked out in art class!”

“And there was paint dumped on my head. I’ve decided to keep out of Newton’s paint range.”

“Gosh Gottlieb, haven’t you ever wanted to have fun?” Alison asked.

“Not if it make me dirty, or it causes me discomfort,” Hermann said.

“Hermann, I hate to break this to you, but you really need to get the stick up your butt checked out. It might be far enough up to cause health problems,” she joked, grinning.

Hermann shook his head, visibly blushing.

“You remind me of my grandmother, just a little bit.”

“I’m sure she’s a lovely woman,” Hermann told her, sending a warning look her way.

“No, more like a stuffy bitch.”

“Are you calling me a...stuffy bitch?”

“Exactly.”

Hermann felt like he was on the verge of either laughing or having a heart attack. He decided to laugh.

“Well, good luck with your lunch, I’ve gotta hop along to robotics.”

“Goodbye.”

***

“What do you think she’s been telling him?” Newt asked. He’d watched Alison and Hermann parting ways at the entrance to the cafeteria. Both he and Tendo had been particularly uncomfortable with the new development. In fact, they’d spent a majority of the lunch period annoying their friends with their worries. The group at large had left the two to their pouting.

“How’m I supposed to know? What’s your little boyfriend telling her?” Tendo shot back.

“Oh please, me and Hermann hardly know each other. At least you and Alison actually dated.”

“Briefly,” Tendo argued.

“Yeah, briefly seven times,” Newt countered.

“Semantics!”

“That is straight, solid fact and you know it. Maybe if you weren’t the worst boyfriend in the world you’d last longer.”

“Worst boyfriend in the world? Isn’t that a little harsh?” Tendo asked, actually sounding a little stung.

“No, that’s putting it lightly.”

Just as Tendo was gearing up to accuse Newt of something slightly worse than vulgar, the bell rung.

“Oh, goodie, now we get to pop into the class from hell.”

“Newton, you don’t even know hell until you and your ex-girlfriend have an intense argument over pipe cleaners.

“Yeah, come back to me when you’ve covered her in some sort of art supply.”

“Considering the looks she was shooting me in study hall, that won’t be very far in the future dude.”

They continued trying to oneup each other for most of the walk, Newt resorting to his usual tactic of shouting over his opponent until he won the argument, but unfortunately, Tendo had been his friend for too long to fall into that trap, and as they entered the art room, Newton admitted defeat. That was not the best beginning to his new least favorite class.

He began towards he and Hermann’s desk, but stopped at the sound of his name.

“Mr. Geiszler, Mr. Gottlieb, come here please.”

Awesome, another round of scoldings. Perfect, just perfect.

Newton trudged over, followed slowly by Hermann. Pentecost sat at his desk, hands clasped before him, eyes tight with impatience.

“Now, considering you two, and your tendency to resolve things with shouting, the headmaster had advised that I separate you from the rest of the class. you’ll be working in the classroom across from us. If you need any supplies, you’ll come back here for them. The one’s in there are not mine. This is not an excuse for lollygagging, and it certainly isn't an excuse for more shouting. I still expect your eager cooperation, but I have less hope you’ll pull through. Now go, the doors unlocked.”

Newt supposed he should be embarrassed. Obviously Pentecost wanted him to be a little embarrassed, but mostly Newt just wanted to get this whole thing over with. He didn’t want Mr. Pentecost to think he was an idiot who wasn’t able to do even the most simple tasks. Unfortunately, the whole year he’d gone through, performing commendably was being erased and replaced with this project and the antics he and Hermann were getting up to. It hardly felt fair.

“Yes sir,” Hermann answered. Newton waited for the formal salute, and was a bit surprised when it didn’t come.

“Go.”

They went.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but Holidays are a stressful time for me. Hopefully updates will go back to their regularly scheduled times, and I will definitely try. Also, on Alison. I've never read the novelization, and tbh, I haven't really gotten into any of the other canon stuff. Most of my knowledge is movie based, therefore, my characterization is pretty much my own. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Feedback is encouraged.


	6. Hey Golden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey golden boy, don't let the darkness in to take you away from yourself, nobody else, there's nobody left to make you run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary from Golden Boy, by the Barenaked Ladies.

He closed the door behind him softly, trying very hard not to meet Hermann’s eyes. It was both of them, sitting there in the deserted classroom, that brought it on. Newt’s skin felt particularly tight.

“We still don’t know what we’ll do,” Hewton reminded him softly. “You’re pretty good with oil paint, and, and I’m not half bad either,” he suggested.

Hermann’s shoulders looked tense, and Newton felt conflicted. Part of him was still furious with the other boy’s attitude. He held onto it with clenched fingers. The feelings were forced, he knew that, because another part of him couldn’t fault Hermann his self-pity. Hadn’t he felt that enough before? Despite what he’d preached right before their falling out, Newt wasn’t free of those feelings. Didn’t Hermann deserve just a little slack? Maybe Gottlieb’s still pissed, Newt thought, fretting with the prolonged silence.

“It’ll be just fine. We’ll make two painting with mirroring themes. it’s solid. Pentecost can’t fault us that,” Newt continued awkwardly. “But our fears gotta be a little more substantial that spider-trucks so…”

“It’s not something I told you lightly,” Hermann finally whispered.

“What?”

“The truck. I...my accident…“ Hermann began, but Newt raised his hand.

“Hermann, you really don’t have to do that.”

“Shut up, Newton. I’ll never get it out if you don’t stop talking,” Hermann pleaded, voice cracking.

Newton’s mouth snapped shut.

“I was..young. We’d just moved, relocating to England after...after my mother,” Hermann began. he sat down heavily at the closest desk, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. He wrapped his arms around himself in a comforting hug. Newt moved closer so he wouldn’t need to speak up.

“We were not happy children. Mostly because our father...he wasn’t a happy man. Nor was he a very forgiving man. In fact, it’d be apt to describe him as a disciplinarian. We didn’t know quite how to be around him. So we didn’t try. I rarely saw him. Dietrich and Karla did okay. They were older, and they made friends easily. Bastien was a baby...so I didn't see him much either. I, well, I had trouble in school. The teachers called home, telling my father I was getting into fights. I’m fairly certain you need two for it to qualify as a fight. It was more like I was getting subjected to beatings.”

Hermann’s hands gripped the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles were white, and previously unshed tears suddenly begin to fall. Newt felt bad, felt guilty, witnessing this. But Hermann had told him to stay quiet, and he wanted to make this as painless as possible for him, so he did.

“I hated him, my father. I thought he was being so unfair. He was so strict, with all of us, but me especially, because I was incredibly clever even then. No one was helping me, and I thought the world really was falling down at me feet. When I was really young, I wanted to be an astronaut, you know, so one night, I packed up my things, clothes and toys, and I ran away. I wanted to make him see just how cruel he’d been. I decided I’d run off and find a new family, grow up, and become an astronaut, like I’d always told my mother I’d do. It was stupid. Why would my father ever think it was his fault? No, no he’d lay all the blame on me…” Hermann’s voice caught, but he barreled ahead. Newt could picture a younger Hermann, face pinched with worry, probably carrying a little knapsack, and his heart ached for him.

“I’d never been allowed near the road before. My mother had a tendency to worry, and I’d never...Well, then, erm...It went very fast. I was crossing the motorway, going as fast as I could when… I woke up in the hospital. My father looked like he might kill me, and I hurt everywhere. They told him I had permanently nerve damage, that I’d never walk without assistance again. He shouted so loud, for so long, I thought he’d never stop shouting,”

He voice trailed off to a whisper, and Hermann’s hands covered his face. Maybe Hermann could be self-centered, but didn’t he have a good enough reason?

“Sounds to me like you’re less afraid of trucks then you are of your father,” Newton said before he could stop himself, the words tumbling out foolishly.

But Hermann didn’t get upset, He didn’t snap back, he didn't shout. He only nodded. “But we aren’t going to paint my father. We’ll paint a truck.”

Newton contemplated what to say next, measuring his options, deciding whether he’d bare his soul here in this cramped little classroom. No, no, better not.

“God, Hermann, you’re making me like you,” Newton groaned, flailing his arms like every bit of the graceless idiot he was.  

“And heaven forbid this doesn’t dissolve into a screaming match, right?” Hermann joked. He sounded relieved to  be done with their little case of artist's block.

“I guess we could...I mean, we could still paint a truck, but what if we had it running over the spiders?” he suggested, half joking.

“I don’t see why not,” Hermann shrugged.

“Well then, let’s get planning.”

***

Saying their idea was unusual was an understatement. More accurate was to say that their idea was ridiculous. Still, it was the only fully fleshed out idea they had. It was also the only idea they were comfortable telling each other. They’d decided that for the dream piece, they’d have a single figure, playing a guitar while little strings of equations streamed into the air like musical notes. Hermann was actually surprisingly fond of it, he was happy to realize. It was a relief that they could decide so on that, because neither was entirely happy with their accompanying piece. Still, it was nice to have something to tell Mr. Pentecost, who looked intrigued about the ideas, if a tad doubtful.

Hermann could admit freely that they deserved doubt. But he was sure that he and Newt had moved past their differences. Newton understood him a little better, and Hermann resolved to think less about his own sad life. Besides, wasn’t it all looking a little better? With a clear, defined task, Hermann knew he could leave art class with a good grade, and move on to finally do something great. It was looking up, even if just a little, and he felt a little relieved, having told Newton what he did. It was like a weight off of his shoulders.

It helped that he and Alison were now friends, something even he would admit. She was smart, and bitingly funny, and when he and Newton made up, she barely even flinched.

“You guys might just end up with a more better relationship than mine,” she told him with a smile.

“Oh, is that a relationship?” Hermann asked.

“I may not be speaking to that little weasel right now, but even I know eventually we’ll get back together. I’m bitter, not stupid,” Alison joked. Hermann gave her a smile

Only three days after their reconciliation, Newton caused another stir. Hermann had been bent over his history notebook, reviewing before their last quiz in the class before the final when he peeked over his shoulder. It startle the studious boy, and he jumped a little. The two knocked heads, hard, and Hermann couldn't help the glare that lept to his face.

“What?” he asked. Newt rubbed the side of his head, above the temple.

“Ow! I was just gonna ask if you were planning anything on Parents Weekend?” Newt muttered with a pout. Hermann squinted at him, frowning.

“What are you talking about? What Parent’s Weekend?”

“The one this weekend,” Newton told him, like he might have gotten confused with the head bump.

“No, no that’s not… Is it really this weekend?” he asked unhappily.

“Yeah,” Newt said, breaking out into a confused smile.

Then, Hermann cursed, because, no, he’d been entirely sure that it wasn’t this weekend just moments ago, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Dude, I know you and your dad might not like each other, but like, what about your siblings?”

“Dietrich and Karla are in University, and Bastien is off at a school of his own. it’ll… It’ll just be my father and his... Michelle.”

“His Michelle? Whose that?”

“A girlfriend,” Hermann explained sourly.

“Oh,” Newton said, shifting uncomfortably.

Hermann couldn't blame him. The venom that had leaked into his voice had come unbidden. Honestly, they’d all been surprised, confused really, when Lars had announced he and Michelle were “romantically involved” with the utmost  formality, like he was executing his last will and testament instead of introducing his significant other to his children. The confusing thing was, Lars Gottlieb had mourned his wife for much longer than anyone would have asked, and he grieved badly. Not one of his children had ever expected him to get over her.

Besides. Michelle was as unlike Mum as a person could get, and much more like Lars than seemed possible. She was stern and severe, with eyes like chips of granite, cold and hard. Where their mother had been prone to quiet warmth and laughter, Michelle spoke often, and rarely was it something kind. Hermann’s mum had been brown haired, plump and brown eyed. Michelle’s hair was like a straw, brittle and straight, and her body was all sharp edges. A poor substitute.

“So I take it you and her aren’t best friends?” Newt wondered.

“Definitely not,” Hermann affirmed with a bitter laugh.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure my dad can’t make it.”

“Why would that make me feel better?” Hermann asked, squinting up at the other boy.

“I dunno, sometimes it’s nice knowing you’re not the only one,” Newt answered cautiously.

“Well, maybe when father’s lecturing me on college choices and my future, you can come over and say something outrageous and scandalize them him silence,” Hermann grinned.

“I’m always available to scandalize parents dude. Ask Tendo about our first Parent’s Weekend in ninth grade,” Newt suggested.

At the sound of his name, Tendo slid into the seat next to Hermann. Mr. Hansen had declared this period a study hall to prepare them, so no one, excluding Hermann, had been doing anything more than fooling around.

“What is he asking me about?”

“Our first Parents Weekend together.”

Something shone in Newt’s eyes, mischief, Hermann was pretty sure, which was mirrored in Tendo’s eyes. He was surprised at the sharp pain of jealousy it brought, him, so he shoved it away as fast as he could.

“Ha, that was fun. See, my dad’s a pretty stodgy old man, or well, he was, and the whole ‘Hey dad, I’m like, really into guys’ thing never really seemed like a talk we could have-” Tendo started, but Hermann interrupted, confused.

“I thought you and Alison were…” he trailed, not sure exactly what he was asking.

“Oh, yeah, well, I’m not gay, but I sure as hell ain’t straight,” Tendo scoffed.

“Oh,” was all Hermann said in reply.

“Anyway, I was a pretty angsty middle schooler, and when I finally got here, when I met Newton, and the other kids in GSA, it was crazy great. I decided, hey, maybe he won’t have such a problem with it. Thank god Newton was there, because his face was so red, I thought he might explode, and he’s not the type to blow up in front of other people,” Tendo continued.

“You should have seen it. I’ve never seen a human being that red. Other than you, maybe,” Newt joked.

“And I was telling him, I was saying, dad, I’m still your son, and I love you, but this is just who I am. He wasn’t listening though, and my mother looked like she was going to faint. Newt knew just what to do.”

Newton shrugged. “Well, I’m an expert on playing parents. I just, I um…”

“He kissed me. Right there, in front of parents. It was insane, and fantastic, and my dad went all soft, you know, around the eyes, and my Mom sat up. Like, I don’t know why, but it flipped a switch, and my parents are totally cool with it now, believe it or not.”

“I-” Hermann stopped himself. There was that blasted jealousy again. Even if he knew that Tendo and Newt didn’t have anything going on, and even if he knew that it didn't matter if they did. Why should he care if Newt kissed someone? Hermann didn’t really care, it was just, he was…he didn't know what he was feeling.

“Although they were kind of confused about Alison. it took awhile to explain that it wasn’t some black or white issue,” Tendo reminded Newt, smiling.

“Always a struggle for the folks,” Newton said, like he knew from experience. “Anyway, Hermann, if you need my services, don’t hesitate to come to call.”

“I doubt I’ll need any kind of help from you,” Hermann told him. He’d been aiming for amusement, but had his voice been a little sharper than usual?

“Oh, alright,” Newt replied mildly. He and Tendo exchanged a look.

The days that passed, bringing him closer to Parents Weekend felt like a death march. He knew he was just being dramatic, but that was the closest approximation to his inner turmoil. It was one thing just dealing with his father, but dealing with Michelle was a specific trouble. Plus, he had a sinking feeling that his new found friends would want to meet them. Maybe not Newt, because the other boy had been forewarned about their icy demeanors, but Alison would never leave it alone. He knew she was curious. Aleksis, unfortunately, had already been subjected to Lars. His father had gone to far as to critique him as soon as his roommate left the room. Hermann could just imagine what he’d have to say about Alison. Impertinent, was a word he’d most definitely use.

He’d finally carved out a few friends. It had taken him forever, and he’d been reluctant to allow them to consider themselves that- hell, he hadn’t even let himself call them that- but he’d done it. These people didn't like him well enough to take his father in stride, and he didn't want to ruin everything before he even got to enjoy it. He didn't have any time.

He could partially blame himself for that, and he did, but a part of him couldn't help but blame a little on his father, on his upbringing. The Gottlieb’s didn’t take pleasure in things. They did nothing just out of joy. Everything was practical, everything could help them to achieve a future, a respectable position, a profitable career. They didn't even celebrate birthdays. That left holidays off the table. And Hermann couldn't even remember the last time they’d gone on vacation. The Gottlieb’s certainly didn’t have casual friendships just because. They had formal relationships, connections that helped them with interviews, and Lars Gottlieb’s only “friends” were there so he could send his children off to prestigious schools.

So yes, his lack of friends were mostly his father’s fault, and he felt better knowing there was at least one thing he could resent his father for, but it didn't change anything. Placing the blame somewhere else didn't help his situation. The only thing he knew to do was try to keep his friends as far from his father as possible. He wouldn’t ask them to be there so he would feel better. It wasn’t worth losing them.   

If Hermann knew anything, it was that Parents Weekend was going to be horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so the plots picking up, and regular updates are definitely important, so I'll strive for that, but i wanna make the chapters longer, so we might meet some resistance. I'm pretty sure chapter seven, for example, will be pretty long. I can only ask that you bear with me. it's fine if you don't want to. Still, comments and feedback are heartily welcome.


	7. And I love the way you hurt me it's irresistible (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too many war wounds and not enough wars. Too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary from Fall Out Boy's new song, "Irresistible"

He wanted to be able to help. Really, he did, but he had his own problems to deal with. He could tell Hermann wasn’t in any sort of good mood. That was just obvious. Newt knew pretty much one thing about Hermann. It was how the boy looked angry. If anyone brought the dreaded Parents Weekend up in front of him, Hermann shut down. He didn’t blame him. As teenager’s they were all sort of obligated to hate their parents, but it didn’t take long to figure out that Hermann was kind of screwed up, and who else could have managed that except for his parents?

Newt knew all about that sort of thing. He didn’t dwell on it though. At least, he usually didn’t, but the news that no one, not even cheery, dependable Uncle Illia was gonna be there made not dwelling just about impossible. He was used to his father, distractible and dreamy as he was, not showing up to things, cancelling at the last minute, but Illia had something come up at work, and his father might have promised to go earlier that month, but he’d cancelled right along with his brother. Newton didn’t think it was very fair that he had two useless parents and only one responsible uncle. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around, like on tv? Nothing would ever make him think his mother might show up. Her tour schedule, along with her horrible fear of being a good mother kept that from ever happening. He’d learned to stop getting disappointed about that.

He’d tried to suggest third-wheeling it with Tendo, but the traitor had bowed out, saying his grandmother was coming to visit, and while a nasty shock might make his parents more open-minded, he was pretty sure even just the presence of Newton’s regular irreverence might give “nana” a stroke. It was much more likely that Tendo and Alison were reconciling and they wanted to spend all their time explaining to each other’s families just what the hell their relationship was exactly. Good luck with that.

The days seem to fall away quicker than usual, the bastards, until it was friday afternoon, and Hermann and Newton were meeting again in the empty classroom, still stuck there, in case the new-found peace collapsed unexpectedly. Neither of them could fathom working, obviously. But the air was too heavy for words, and Newt was getting antsy sitting in anxious silence, so he took out his phone, dinged and scratched as it was.

“What is that?” Hermann asked, frowning disapprovingly at the image on the back of his phone.

“What? Oh, Othachi! Isn’t she a beauty?” Newt asked proudly. He’d scribbled her on a few months ago, late at night, letting the sharpie dry overnight. His Uncle hadn’t been very happy.

“It’s a monster, not a dog,” Hermann reminded him.

“Yeah, she’s a monster, but that doesn’t mean she’s not absolutely gorgeous. Also, considering I drew her myself, I have to say it’s a pretty good likeness,” Newt boasted.

“Likeness? Would you have me believe there’s something like this running around?” Hermann asked incredulously.

“No, don’t be stupid. But she is the Big Bad in this manga I read in tenth grade,” Newton explained.

“And so of course you drew her permanently on an expensive piece of electronics?” Hermann said, sounding a bit indignant.

“What, you’ve never modified your tech?” Newton asked.

“Beyond virus protection and memory back-up? No. I have yet to draw Frankenstein's monster on my laptop,” Hermann replied primly.

“Why, is he your favorite?” Newton wondered eagerly.

“What? Uh...no. I don’t know. I think, if I were to choose, I’d choose Jaws, considering sharks are a real concern.”

“Of course you’d be practical in your favorite monster,” Newt muttered. “But just so you know, sharks aren’t really dangerous. Sharks kill, like, five people a year, and we kill about 8,000 sharks in the same time.”

“I- why do you know that?”

“Well, I mean, if the whole rockstar thing falls through, I’m gonna be a biologist, so…”

“So, plan A is rock star, and plan B is shark expert? You do realize you have the same career aspirations as a third grader, right?”

“Maybe a punk rock third grader with cool hair.”

“Is that what you think that mess is?” Hermann laughed.

“Oh, and what about you grandpa? You’re hair looks like a mushroom!” Newt shot back.

“I need a haircut,” Hermann explained defensively.

They accomplished nothing that class period, which, upon reflection, was exactly what Newt needed. A little mindless banter about sharks had actually made him feel better about this weekend. So what if no one was coming? So he’d have a day of boredom. Everyone would be busy wishing their parents weren’t there, and everything would be back to normal by Monday. He’d call his Uncle and complain, and Illia would never miss another thing again, because, yeah, he was awesome, and the poor guy had to live with dad, so maybe Newt could cut him some slack. He’d never missed anything before. Maybe he wouldn't complain so much.

Newt walked Hermann back to his dorm, hoping maybe he could keep the other boy’s mind off his own father. It was the least he could do.  They talked about history, the quiz they’d taken that day. Newton had aced it, and Hermann certainly had, but Hermann was being coy about it. Herms could play at arrogance and self-importance all he wanted, but Newton was sure he’d only met a handful of people as self-conscious as this uptight, nerdy idiot. As if anyone- except maybe him- was anywhere near as smart as Hermann was. The kid was a veritable Hawking-level genius.

“Well, see ya later, Herms,” Newton said when they got to his hall.

“Yes,” was all Hermann responded with, face tightening with a frown.

Newt knew he really shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, dude. If your dad doesn’t realize that his son is, like, the best kid at this school, it’s his loss.”

He braced himself for the kickback, sure that Hermann would have something biting to say in response to his ridiculously cliched assurance. All Hermann did was smile and turn off towards his room.

“That was weird,” Newton muttered under his breath. But he’d gotten off easy, so he left for his own room before his luck would turn.

***

“The devil could literally climb out of hell and piss in my mouth and I wouldn’t feel any worse than I do now,” Tendo moaned. They were watching the procession of cars come down the school’s drive. Parents climbed out, like a swarm of locusts.

“That is absolutely disgusting,” Alison scolded, but she was grinning. Hermann looked sick, but Newton didn't think it had anything to do with Tendo’s vulgarity.

“Gotta get it all out before Nana gets here dude. Well, shit in my mouth and call it chocolate, isn’t that your dad, dear Alison?”Tendo exclaimed.

“Oh, shut up you monster. You yell any louder and we won’t have to worry about reintroducing each other to our parents!” she laughed.

“Uh oh, here comes Nana,” Tendo said, bolting forward towards a sleek gray sudan. He helped an extremely elderly woman out of the back seat. Alison took her cue, coming up alongside her boyfriend, smiling down at the old woman.

Newt rolled his eyes. For all the irritating antics, those two could really win people over. It didn't matter how badly Tendo had insulted her when they’d last broke up, by the end of the night their families would love each other.

“How many times do you bet they’ll have to do damage control again before the year is over?” Newt joked.

“Seven,” Hermann answered distractedly. Obviously he wasn’t listening to a word being said.

“So, what does your dad drive?” Newt asked.

“Uh...he rents when he comes to visit.”

“Cool,” he said, at a loss for words.

“You don’t need to wait with me, Newton. I’ll be perfectly fine waiting alone.”

“I know, dude, but I’m gonna be alone the whole night, so I’m putting off going back to my room to mope.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry about your Uncle. It’s obvious you admire him,” Hermann said, glancing away from the line of cars to meet his eyes.

“Don’t be dude. This’ll be the first time he’s missed one of these things.”

Suddenly, Hermann’s shoulders straightened, and he pulled his legs together in a way Newton knew had to hurt, because he never did it, but made his slouch less apparent. A pair of tall blonde robots- because no human being could be so devoid of emotion, it was impossible- strode towards them. The woman’s face looked like she’d never smiled, and the man’s eyes seemed to scream “I’ve never felt joy before.” Unnerving was an understatement.

“Father,” Hermann greeted stiffly. Newton found himself waiting for Hermann to salute for a second time, but was again disappointed.

“Hermann,” his father said.

He wanted to say his own name, just to see what they’d do, but the woman opened her thin stern mouth before he managed it.

“Nice to see you again, Hermann,” she told him. It sounded a little hollow. Wow, their programmers needed to fix the whole “emotion” thing.

He felt guilty calling Hermann’s family robots, but it fit so well. Good thing none of them was ever going to hear his inner monologue.

“And who is this?” Mr. Gottlieb asked. Newton watched the man take in his sloppy appearance. He wondered if it was worse that he was seeing him in his civvies, a pair of unreasonably tight black jeans, and a rather embarrassing shirt with an angry moose design sprawled across his chest, rather than his haphazard uniform.

“Oh, this is my friend, Newton Geiszler. Newton, this is my father,” Hermann introduced. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Hello Mr. Gottlieb,” he tried for cheerfulness, but it didn’t register.

“It’s Dr. Gottlieb,” Hermann’s dad corrected.

“Uh, this is my father’s...girlfriend, Michelle Derchter,” Hermann rushed on.

“Hey.”

They were all very quiet for a few seconds, and Newton found himself tapping his foot to an inaudible beat. he was pretty sure they were all too proper to say anything, and it was basically up to him to leave, so he let out what he hoped was a regretful sigh.

“Well, I better get going. See you later Herms.”

That last part had slipped out, and he regretted it instantly, especially considering the look of surprise that flickered across his father’s face, and the blush that rose on Hermann’s cheeks, but the best course of action seemed to be making a swift retreat and leaving Hermann to the AI’s, so that’s exactly what he did.

Unfortunately this left him vulnerable to what came next. The sound of his name hit him like a semi, and a large part of him probably would have preferred being hit by a truck than the alternative.

“Newt, darling,” his mother called out. His head snapped towards her, eyes wide with surprise. This made absolutely no sense. He’d seen his mother maybe three times in the last five years, and he’d only actually wanted to the one time. She looked ridiculous, too. Way too dressed up. God, it was a  school function, not the damn Grammys. She strolled up to his place on the sidewalk in a slip of black with a blue half jacket slung over her shoulders.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” he asked, dumb struck.

She screwed up her elegant, beautiful face in what passed as an amused frown these days. “I’m here to see you, of course.”

“Since when?” he snapped.

“Well, Newt, we never get to spend any time together, and when I learned your uncle couldn’t make it, i knew it was the perfect opportunity. To reconnect, you know?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Because it couldn't be this simple. She had to have an ulterior motive right? God did this mean he’d have to spend the whole weekend pretending to forgive just to spare her feelings? That’s what his father always did, hurrying to make her feel less guilty. Newton knew that well, it was all Uncle Illia talked about when she came around. He’d been worried about having no one to be with, hardly even guessing he’d have the exact opposite problem.

“Oh, come on Newton, even I know I haven’t been there for you very much. Is it so horrible of me to want to really get to know you?”

He knew what he wanted to say. Yes, Monica, it’s so horrible, because I wanna see you less than I wanna die.  But he’d learned from his father much more than he’d learned from Illia in this department, obviously, because that’s not what he said.

“No, no it’s not. I’m just, ya know, surprised. It’s been a while, uh, Mom.”

“Don’t I know it,” she laughed.

Couldn’t she tell how uncomfortable this was? It wasn’t like she’d stayed away for a good solid reason, like work, or god, anything. She just didn't want him. Did she really have the nerve to act like it was anyone’s fault but hers?

“So, are we just going to stand out on the lawn? Can i assume the school will be providing refreshments?” Monica asked.

“Oh, yeah, sure. It’s in the, uh, cafeteria.”

He led the way, walking carefully, because his nerves were strung, and if he didn't watch himself he was sure he’d fall headfirst into the grass. Were his hands shaking? Jeez.

“So, after I drink something- I’m absolutely parched- I’d love to speak to your teachers. And maybe I’ll meet your little friends,” she suggested.

But Newton thought her smile looked forced. If she didn't want to be here, he’d happily watch her go.  So what was her angle? She didn't have any desire to see his teachers and meet his friends, so what was going on?

“Sure.” If she noticed the sour note in his voice, she didn't say anything.

He led her and her sequins into the cafeteria, which was filling up with more and more families. His fellow student’s faces ranged from bliss to outright despair. He spotted Alison and Tendo holding court over two pushed together tables and the rather whipped looking families that sat at them. So those two were more alike than Newton had thought. Monica strode past him to take a seat close to the center of the room.

“Newt, dear, could you get me that drink?” she asked, taking her seat. he held back an eye roll.

“‘Course,” he answered with a sharp nod. He’d take a respite where he could get it. Still, he couldn't help but think that she’d been here for just a couple of minutes and already she was ordering him around. He stomped over to the table, grabbing one of the stupid punch glasses.

“Newton! I thought you’d be back in your dorm room by now,” Hermann exclaimed.

“Yeah, so did I,” he grumbled. God he didn't wanna be talking to Hermann right now. Not only did the kid look like he was at his own execution, but Newt was not in the mood to be nice to anyone. No, he was already wasting that on Monica.

“What’s wrong?”

“My mother is here.”

“I’m sorry? Is that a bad thing?” Hermann wondered.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Why?”

“My mother hasn’t spoken to my in a year, and I haven’t spoken to her in two. So yeah, it’s a bad thing.”

“Sorry about that,” he said. Newt glanced at him. Yeah, Hermann looked beaten down.

“You remember what I said last night, right? Hermann I wasn’t joking around. Your great.”

“Thank you Newton,” Hermann answered with a small smile and flush of his cheeks. “I hope you’re mother doesn’t give you too much trouble.

“Yeah, me too.”

***

Hermann felt like he was shrinking under his father’s gaze. The man watched him like a rather uninteresting insect he intended to squish, but had stopped to observe before he did. Or maybe he was just being paranoid.

Newton’s attempt to cheer him up had certainly been charming, but he’d been able to sense the other boy’s own frustrations. While Hermann couldn't fully comprehend exactly what Newt had against his mother without all the information, he could sympathize with unwanted visits from parents.

Although, did Hermann really want his father gone? Not completely. No, admittedly he wanted to show his father just how well he could do. He did have things to be proud of, after all. He was doing very good in his classes, and without having to worry about his final project, he was sure he had art well in hand.

But all of that came tomorrow, when his father would meet with his teachers. Tonight was about reunions, as they were. It even said “Meet and Greet” on the programs in the lobby. Unfortunately, Hermann had no desire for anyone to meet his father and Michelle. They were all locked in an uncomfortable silence, like the lulls between topics during a normal conversation stretched out for miles.

“So, you’re staying in town?” Hermann asked, more out of politeness than genuine curiosity.

“Yes. We have a room in a small bed and breakfast. It’s nice,” Michelle said.

Hermann pushed down the flash of anger. Neither of them were making this any easier. Why weren’t they making any effort to carry on a conversation. Even they couldn’t be comfortable like this.

Tendo’s arrival felt like both a blessing and a curse. In no way did he want to hear what his father had to say about the boy- his hair alone would warrant a few choice words- but even that had to be better than this silence. He’d thought he’d be able to deal without dragging his friends into it, but obviously not.

“Hey Hermann!”

“Hello.” Hermann turned in his seat towards his father, shifting to in search of a more comfortable position unsuccessfully. “Ah, father, this is Tendo Choi. He’s in several of my classes. Tendo, this is Lars Gottlieb.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Tendo smiled, holding out a hand. Hermann’s father returned the handshake impassively.

“And you, Mr. Choi.”

“Sir, Tendo’s studies focus on electronics,” Hermann mentioned hopefully.

If there were anything out there looking out for him, let this spark some kind of conversation.

“What are you looking to go into?’ Lars asked. Finally.

“Maybe technical engineering? Although I’m leaning towards robotic engineering. “

Hermann sunk into the blur of speech, glad to have the burden off his shoulders. Tendo and his father might not have shared similar personalities, but Tendo hoped for a place in a similar field, so that alleviated some of the awkwardness. Mr. Choi joined them soon after, and then the two stuffy older men, one a bit warmer, a bit more animated, were off, and Tendo and he could sit back in companionable silence, and Hermann could assure himself that this weekend would be bearable, just like every other weekend before.

Michelle was a nuclear analyst, or something along the same vein, Hermann thought, but she was fairly knowledgeable about the broad aspects of a lot of the hard sciences, and she was able to follow the conversation. You could see on her face that she was interested. And Hermann couldn’t help but be glad his father hadn’t fallen into the age old cliche of dating someone much younger and much less intelligent in his middle age. That was something he can be sure will never happen. Perhaps his assessment that Michelle was without feelings had been a bit too harsh. Perhaps it didn't really matter whether she had feelings or not, because Lars could have picked someone much worse.

These thoughts of future compassion, of being sure Hermann had gotten off easy, got him through the night, blessedly intact and emotionally well. There’d been a lot less silence once Tendo, the saint, had intervened, and Alison joined them at some point. Her mother worked at the UN, and apparently that made her worthy of her father’s attention, and suddenly Hermann understood just why Lars had friends with connections. He was intelligent, and when he wanted to be, charming. Obviously he’d need to be in his line of work, but that had never really occurred to Hermann before. He was impressed.

The moment they left, though, Hermann almost let out a whoop of relief. That was one day done, and another soon to be conquered. He glanced at Tendo knowingly, smiling. He’d never felt so grateful towards a boy with that much hair gel on his head.

“You don’t have to say a word, Herms. You’re welcome,” he joked.

“And you’re rather arrogant. But really thank you. My father’s not one for conversation if it serves no purpose. Small talk with his son, apparently, serves no purpose.”

“No problem. My Nana was just getting ready to tell her story about goats for the third time.”

“I don’t know why he didn’t wanna stick around for that,” Alison cut in, grinning.

“Yeah, it’s still funny the third time, I’ll admit, but she tells the story non stop at every family event. I’ve heard it about five thousand times, but my dad has me beat by like, two million goats.”

Alison glanced around nose crinkling. “Hey, do you think Newt wants us to wait up for him?”

It prompted a search on Hermann’s part, but he couldn't see the other boy anywhere around their position in the lobby.

“Nah, I doubt Newt wants anyone around at the moment. He hates seeing his mom.”

“Why?” Hermann found himself asking. He wanted to know what it was like in Newt’s head. Wouldn’t knowing about his past make that a little easier?

“If you wanna know that, you should ask him, dude. Not my place, ya know?” Tendo shrugged.

“Right, of course. Sorry.”

Without anything else keeping them standing in the muggy space, the three set off back to their rooms. Hermann doubted he was the only one preoccupied.

***

It had started off only uncomfortable. But, as Newt had experienced too many times before, it descended into genuine horror.

First there was the flask. Monica had showed it to him, smiling conspiratorially, but all he’d done was panic internally. He’d seen his mother drunk much more than he saw her sober, and it was no pretty sight.

Then there was the flirting. She’d leaned over some poor Uncle’s lap shamelessly while three of Newt’s classmates looked on. She might not have been ashamed, but he made up for it. He was blushing so hard his ears were red, but Monica had yet to notice. She was too busy embarrassing her only child. He just wanted her to leave and never come back. She managed to ruin everything every time she came around.

The first time, Newt had been like, four. He hardly remembered it, and no one in the house ever talked about it, but bits and pieces still remained. She’d gone away soon after he was born, making some excuse about needing to focus on her stupid career, and then not bothering to call for four damn years. Then she showed right back up, for some reason newt couldn’t recall. She’d stayed for a week. By the end of the week his dad, a fragile man already, was just about wrecked beyond repair, his Uncle, as unshakable as he was, had retreated to his basement workshop almost 24 solid hours a day, and little Newt had gained three new bruises. She hadn’t hit him, but she’d let him sleep in the guest bed with her, and he’d rolled off almost every night. It didn’t stop her.

The second time he’d been twelve, and he’d realized just what trouble his mother was. It had been forever since he’d seen her, and he almost hadn’t recognized her. She came bearing gifts, which included a signed copy of one of her own cds and a chemistry set. Newton already had about ten chemistry sets, which he used rather carelessly, because the experiments in the instructions were always boring and he liked to see what he could figure out on his own. All in all, it wasn’t very impressive. When he hadn’t rushed to hug her, or weeped or done whatever Monica had expected, she’d freaked out. But the end of the short day long visit she’d accused his father of bringing strange women around and Uncle Illia of poisoning her son against her. That’s made Newt angry, because the only person who’d made him hate her was her.

The third time Monica came around, it was three days after Newton had gotten the news from his psychiatrist and he was fifteen. It's hit the three Geiszler men like a punch to the gut, the diagnosis “bipolar disorder”, and none of them had spoken to each other, for fear of making it real. She’d swept through the front door like she owned the place. Newt never did find out who’d told her, but he thought it might have been his father. She’d come over and kissed his cheek and sat down next to him on the couch, talking about the struggle she’d  had with mental illness when she was younger. She’d explained that his conception had actually happened during a manic period, like maybe that might make him feel better, knowing he was a mistake. Newton had just snapped, pulling her up off the couch, telling her that she needed to leave and never came back. because god, he refused to be anything like her.

He hadn’t once missed a day when taking his meds.

Newt was glad when the night came to a close and the students and their visitors started to trickle out. He stood up so hard his chair clattered to the ground and Monica stared up at him.

“What’s the hurry sweetie?” she asked, smiling serenely. God she was wasted.

“Time to go mom. Do you want me to call a car service? Where’s your wallet? Are you staying in town?” he launched the questions at her rapidfire, not wanting to spend any more time with a drunk Monica Shwartz than he had to.

“Slow down honey, we’ve got time,” she reminded him. “You’re acting like you’re not happy to spend time with me.”

It took all he had not to point out that he didn’t want to spend time with her.

“Listen mom, I’ll see you tomorrow, but I wanna be sure you get home safe.” He hoped that would endear her, but her face clouded over with a scowl. Obviously it hadn’t had the desired effect.

“You’re getting more like that Uncle of yours every day.”

He took a deep breath, trying to reign in his anger. “Mom, I’m going to call you a cab. Where are you staying?”

“See? Just like him, avoiding confrontation and acting like I’m some kind of mess!” she snapped, standing on two unsteady legs. When he reached out to help she smacked his hands away.

“I’ll just walk home. What would you care if I got hit by a car?” she asked.

He knew that routine. She was trying to guilt him into a response. She wouldn’t be happy until they were screaming at each other. He was happy to oblige, but there was no way he’d fight with her out in the open where people could see.

“Come on, Monica,” he growled, grabbing her. Maybe he was a little too rough, but it got the job done. Newt led his mother out of the cafeteria, through the lobby and out towards the job. Then he took out his phone, ready to call that cab.

“Oh, stop with the chivalry, sweetie. I’ve got a car waiting for me.”

“Then why don’t you get in it?” Newt shouted.

She’d wanted confrontation? Well here it was.

“Because I wanted to see what my checks were paying for! You go to this ridiculous school, spending all my money, I wanted to see if it was worth it. And Illia just wouldn't shut up. God, he nagged me to come visit you. So I came, to shut him up.”

Newt reeled back. “What happened to wanting to see me? God, why don’t you ever just tell me the truth?”

“Newton, really! You’re not stupid. I have to see you. I have to visit, because I’m your mother. I have to love you. But I don’t have to like you!” He sputtered, but she didn’t stop. “And when I found out you were just as screwed up as me, I knew Illia’d want me to take more responsibility! Because your father’s just about useless.”

Newton  backed up, taking a place before one of the small shrubs that spread across campus. He needed something at his back, something to protect him from the words she flung at him.

“Shut up! You don’t get to call him useless when you’re…”

“What? What am I Newton?” She turned away from him, but it didn’t lower her volume.

“The worst god damn mother on earth. Jesus Christ, Monica. I’m seventeen! Couldn’t this have waited? I mean, for fucks sake!” Newton practically screamed, voice cracking.

“Oh, listen to you. Monica, you call me. And then you act like you want me to baby you. I’m just being honest, Newton,” she snapped. His mother spun on him, striding towards him. He didn’t have any way to retreat, backed into the shrubbery as he was. “Isn’t that what kids want? Honesty?”

“You idiot! Kids want you to treat them like people. They want you to tell them about sex, and not pretend like you’d never did drugs. They don’t want you to tell them ‘well, honey, I love you, because I have to, but I don’t like you’, because guess what, that shit screws us up!”

She let out a huff, stepping back. “How’m I supposed to know that? No one told me-”

“No one should have to. You don’t have an excuse Monica. You can’t just tell me you didn’t know and expect all of this to go away. If my dad’s not gonna hold you responsible for your actions, then I will.”

“I’m the parent Newt.”

“Oh, I’m glad you remembered!” Newt cried. “That’s not what I meant. I meant…”

He took a deep breath. Because even if this was a long time coming. even if he’d been wishing he could say this since he was twelve, Newton still needed more courage than he had in his body to say it. She might be horrible at it, but she was his mom. He needed to be sure of himself before he did this.

That didn't take very long.

“I meant, that  don’t want to see you again. I mean it this time. This isn’t about you not coming around to visit, or maybe a year or two of silence. I mean we’re done. You’re not my mother, and I’m not you son. Got it?”

“Newton.” She had to know he wasn’t just saying it this time. He really meant it.

“We’re done,” Newton repeated, voice a thousand times more sure.

“Fine!” she snapped, stomping- really, her immaturity was not going to be missed- off towards a pair of tail lights.

Newton let out a sigh, long and loud, and felt his shoulder slumping. He’d need to speak to his Uncle, after a few days of angry silence, because Illia couldn't just go around trying to fix things that weren’t his to fix.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, I just wanna say that I really considered what song I'd use as this chapters title, because it is about that struggle teenagers have to both rebel, and show their parents that they're their own people, while also really striving to make them proud. When you have parents that aren't so great, that really does become a problem, and it's something I think both Newt and Hermann struggled with. I assume FOB sort of mean the song to be about romantic love, but the way it felt to me was like, you're just a kid, and you do all these things for your parents, and you know they're gonna dismiss you, or mock you, but you just need the approval, so you don't think about it. So, yeah.  
> Secondly- this chapter is pretty long, and the next chapter was originally going to be a part of it. Instead, I'm splitting them up and posting them one day after another, so just, be aware of that. Anyway, feedback is welcome!


	8. And I love the way you hurt me it's irresistible (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like a moth getting trapped in the light by fixation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary from Fall Out Boy's new song, "Irresistible"

Hermann probably should have known hope was bullshit. Or, to be more exact, he should have realized that one good night couldn't change the way things had been for his entire life.

He had an uneventful walk back to his dorm room with Alison and Tendo, but he couldn't get his mind off of Newton. It felt wrong to abandon him, like he was being unloyal. But then again, Tendo knew him better than Hermann, so maybe he was just considering how he felt about it.  Yes, that was exactly what was happening.  So speaking to Newton at the moment was probably a horrible idea.

Unfortunately that didn’t stop him from focusing on it, and picking apart his every feeling, along with everything Newton had done since they’d met. B the time he had gotten to his dorm and split away from Tendo and Alison to give them some semblance of privacy, Hermann’s head was spinning with all the baseless speculation and self-hatred. The former was new, and the latter, not so much.

Hermann began undressing, still inattentive. He unbuttoned his shirt, fingers fumbling before pulling it off his shoulders and folding it sloppily. Usually he’d place it directly in the dirty laundry, but thought nothing of that then. He walked out of his pants while he was toeing off his shoes, leaving the pile on the ground next to his bed. Now, previously, Hermann had refused to forgo his pyjamas, even in the heat, but now he wasn’t going to be uncomfortable for propriety’s sake. People had seen him without a shirt on before. Why bother?

He climbed into bed, yanking the covers over his body roughly. That’s when his roommate returned, flicking on the lights where Hermann hadn’t bothered to.

“Hermann?” Aleksis asked, eyeing the mess on the floor.

“Yes?”

“Uh...are you okay?” it was obvious he wanted to aim more specific questions his roommates way, but it just wasn’t happening.

Hermann wouldn’t have considered Aleksis a friend last year, or even just a month ago, but now  he felt the urge to have friends. He’d like to think he and his roommate were friends. They spoke on a daily basis, not only about hygiene and visitors, but about classes, and Aleksis sometimes told Hermann stories about Sasha and him. God knows Aleksis had heard enough about Newton Geiszler to write a book, even if the one telling him about Newton only really knew enough to write a pamphlet with a sorry amount of data.

“I am...thinking,” Hermann finally answered.

It was the easiest way to explain that he was so worried about other people he wasn’t even wondering how his teachers would describe his progress to his father. This was a new experience. Hermann wasn’t cold. He felt things, certainly, but he was closed off. It was simpler.

“You look like someone's beaten you to a pulp.”

“It’s just...Newton,” Hermann supplied reluctantly.

“Ah, yes, Geiszler’s at it again, I presume? What’s he done this time?” Aleksis asked, smiling.

“Oh, oh no. Newton hasn’t done anything wrong, surprisingly. Actually, nothing really happened. I don’t know why I’m…” here he trailed off. What exactly was he doing?

“Pining. It looks like you might be pining,” he suggested. He was still smiling. Like that was funny.

“I’m not pining. I mean, I don’t- I’m not. He’s not-” Hermann scowled at him, sitting up to achieve the full effect of his glare.

“Oh please. Listen, Hermann, whether you’re comfortable with yourself to admit it or not, you’re pining.”

“I am not...gay,” Hermann told him, voice tight.

He’d maintained that since middle school, constantly policing himself and keeping his feeling under tight restraint. Just the idea that he could ever be in a sexual relationship felt bizarre, almost wrong, which,  of course, made him even stranger. What kind of person didn’t want sex? Was Hermann that kind of person? And if he didn’t actually want to have sex with Newton, he couldn’t be… No, he wasn’t.

It was thoroughly confusing.

“Okay, maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re whatever you want to be. It doesn’t matter. You can deny a lot of things Hermann, but not that. Trust me. Everyone knows. You two act like absolute idiots around each other.”

“I…” Hermann stopped. He wasn’t sure if he had anything more to say. Parts of him knew that Aleksis was right, knew that there was no use arguing. Because feelings weren’t logical. You couldn’t build up an incontestable argument about how you felt about someone. If anyone could, Hermann would already be doing that. It was enough to drive him mad.

After a few moments of silence, Aleksis turned off the lights, changing in the cover of darkness.

“Hermann, whether you’re madly in love with Geiszler or not… I mean, you have friends who, uh, care about you.”

“Thanks,” he whispered. He meant it.

***

Newton hadn’t exactly planned on speaking to anyone after the fight with his mother. In fact, he’d been really hoping he wouldn’t have to. His emotions felt like an exposed nerve, and he knew that talking about what had happened would probably ruin any chance of getting over this whole thing quickly and quietly. All he wanted to forget it had even happened. But Tendo obviously wasn’t in on that plan.

As soon as he entered their dorm room he was assailed. It was completely in character of his best friend, but he couldn't help but feel a little resentful that Tendo couldn’t even stop to consider what Newton might be feeling.

“What happened with your mom?” he asked immediately.

“Nothing,” Newt snapped. He had absolutely no patience for this.

“Newton, I know you. Either you and her had some huge fight and now you really need to talk about before you push it away into some corner of your mind and just forgive her like you always do, or you didn't fight with her, and if you don’t talk about it, you might snap one day and kill her. Which would be bad. I don’t think you’d make it very long in prison.”

“I’m not going to talk about it with you, Tendo. Not right now. I just want to go to bed, alright?”

“No, it’s not alright! Newt, what happened?” Tendo prodded, completely unsympathetic to his plight.

“What always happens. She ruined it. I thought she’d come to see me and she ruined it. She got drunk. She got drunk at a school program. I mean who does that?” Newt muttered. He sat down hard on his bed, undoing the laces on his sneakers. When he’d finished with that, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, needing to not be trapped. He wanted the air on his skin.

“And you know, I’d forgive her that. I know she...has a problem. Uncle Ilia’s explained more times than I can count, but she never bothers taking responsibility for her actions. And she acts like it’s everyone else’s job to educate her. Which is bullshit. Absolute bullshit.”

Newton pulled at the button of his jeans, wincing at the imprints the fabric left on his waist. “So… I told her I didn’t want to see her again. I know- I know I’ve done that before, and in a year, I might be ready to...forgive her, but right now, I mean it. She’s like poison. Every single time she comes around, she just ruins everything. I was happy. I have you, and Ali, and Hermann… But I just…”

“Feel like it doesn’t mean anything?” Tendo suggested. He’d had this conversation with Newt before. he knew what his friend was trying to convey. Maybe Newt wasn’t so angry that he was making him talk about it.

“Yeah. It’s like. if my own mother can't stand me, how can I expect my friends to put up with any of it? I’m brash and loud and quirky and, what if no one wants me?”

“Well, listen here, I want you. You’re my best friend, and you’re obligated to stick around and pick up the pieces when Alison inevitably breaks my heart for the thousandth time. It’s your job.”

“Why? are you guys fighting again? You’ve been back together for like, three days!” It felt amazing changing topics. Tendo was amazing for letting it happen.

“Nah, but c’mon, follow the pattern dude. We’ve got like, three weeks, tops.”

“That’ll get you almost to graduation,” Newt reminded him.

“And do you think this ridiculous thing we’ve got going is going to last through four plus years of university?” Tendo asked him, searching Newt’s face for any sign of a lie.

“I think you guys are gonna get married one day. And you better invite me to the wedding.”

“Only if you bring Gottlieb as your date,” Tendo laughed.

“Like Hermann could ever agree to that.” Newton scoffed, “Come on dude. He’s the most uptight, conservative teenager I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t know, Newt, he was pretty worried about you earlier.”

“Really?” He hated how satisfied that left him. “What’d he say?”

“Oh, he just asked me if you were gonna be okay. You know, eyes filled with gentle devotion,” Tendo grinned.

“You’re an idiot,” Newt muttered. But he was smiling. He definitely felt better. But then, Tendo was pretty good at making him feel better.

***

Hermann was up bright and early, more than ready to get the weekend over with. He was suddenly nervous that people might see how he felt. It was stupid, insane even. There was no way that anyone other than Aleksis could tell just from looking at him that he was… Hermann shook his head, trying to dislodge the fear. He focused instead on getting dressed. He took particular care, hesitating between three almost identical sweaters before he pulled on a green argyle he was sure he must have had forever.

After spending too much time on his hair- which ended up looking the same as it always did- Hermann rushed down to the ground floor of his hall, where Tendo and Alison had agreed to meet him the night before. They were standing in the doorway, obstructing the foot traffic as Tendo explained something, arms flailing with emphasis. Newt was watching him along with Alison, looking bemused. They’d even drawn a small crowd.

When Hermann drew closer, he began to pick up the conversation.

“Listen, all I’m saying is, it’s just a little pretentious to hate on every reboot or remake they make these days. Even when they’re good, people won’t shut up about how the classics were better!” Tendo exclaimed. His face was a little red.

“Oh, so we should just lie down and let them keep pumping out crap?” Newt asked.

“I mean, if you wanna spend life on your back, sure. But that’s not my point.”

Newt smiled, taking the euphemism in stride. “Alright, oh great one, what is your point?”

“My point, oh large and obnoxious idiot, is that they’re always going to be “pumping out crap.” And no, we shouldn't just let it happen. But not all sequels and remakes are crap, and that attitude ignores that, dude. Plus, your life cannot be fun with that sort of cynicism,” Tendo responded.

“Are you done?” Hermann asked. If they’d rather argue about movies, he was completely ready to leave without them.

“What? Oh, hey Hermann. Yeah, yeah we’re done.”

“And thank God! You guys are both massive idiots,” Alison huffed, spinning on her heels and out the doors. Tendo pulled a face at her back, before hurrying after her.

“Hey,” Newt exclaimed, sidling up to Hermann. He smiled in reply, moving towards the doors with the crowd the debate had drawn.

“So, just one last day, right?”

“Fortunately, yes,” Hermann admitted. The reminder was welcome, even if its source was glancing at him in  a way that made him feel unsettled and confused.

“Listen Hermann… I’m sure Tendo told you about-  about me and my mother,” Newt started, but Hermann didn't let him continue.

“Tendo didn’t tell me anything. In fact, he said any information should come from you.”

“Oh. Well that was nice of him,” Newt muttered. Hermann wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm or not.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened, last night or before that,” Hermann said.

They were following the path, a few paces behind Tendo and Alison, who looked like they might be bickering, but Newton and Hermann made no move to catch up to their friends.

“Well, I mean-  I think I  need to tell you. I told Tendo and it made me feel better. Hermann I want to tell you.”

And didn't Hermann know how that felt? When he’d confided in Newton it hadn’t been some move to strengthen their relationship or something like that. it hadn’t been for them. It’d been for him.

“My mother has- uh…  Wow, this is, um. I have- I have bipolar disorder.”

His voice had cracked, in the way that Hermann found incredibly endearing, and he was flushed. Newt glanced at him nervously.

“And your mother has it as well?” Hermann asked.

“Uh, yeah. There’s some...genetic components to it, I guess. Wow, where’s the disdain?” Newton asked.

“What disdain? Newton, this hardly within your realm of control. Besides, how horrible do you think I am?” Hermann wondered.

“Well I. I don’t know. Just, some people don’t take it very well. And it’s not like we’ve been friends as long as Tendo and me. I’m just used to people being rude.”

“I’m not people,” Hermann snapped. “Newton, you’re my friend. It doesn't matter how long that’s been a fact, because it is a fact. You idiot.”

“Well, there’s that Gottlieb charm folks,” Newton announced to no one, grinning wildly. He looked ecstatic, and it made Hermann wonder just how much his opinion mattered to him.

They were quiet when they shouldn’t have been. Neither of them spoke while they could have been telling each other more truths, the one that needed to be said. Instead, they continued down the path, towards the main building, and towards Hermann’s father, pushing down whatever they might be feeling. Alison and Tendo slowed, and the four fell into step together.

“So, we gonna triple team this bitch?” Tendo asked.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Newton asked.

“Well, I for one know that me and Alison are trying to foster an alliance between our two families, which may sound stupid but is completely necessary if they’re gonna put up with our on-again-off-again arrangement. And, if last night is any indicator, Hermann, I don’t think you’ll wanna be alone with the ice people.”

“Ice people? I was thinking robot?” Newton joked.

Hermann shook his head. “No. You’re both wrong. My brothers and sister used to call him wie Stein when we were smaller.”

Newton laughed, thankfully, but Tendo and Alison only looked confused.

“Sorry dude. I speak Spanish. I have no idea what you just said,” Tendo admitted.

“French,” Alison explained with a shrug.

“It’s German for stone-like. Or sometimes, Karla called him “marble man” But that just made him angry.”

“Is anyone else reeling at the knowledge that the Gottlieb children actually misbehaved?” Alison asked.

Newt and Tendo both raised their hands.

“You two are idiots,” Hermann snapped, turned and limping away as quick as possible to hide his smile.

They were all a little disappointed when they reached the main building. Tendo’s family spotted them first, enveloping the four and scolding their dilly-dallying, as his father called it. Apparently, they hadn’t been fast enough for Mr. Choi. Alison’s parents were close at hand, and when they spotted Lars and Michelle, it seemed that they were all set.

“Where’s your mother, Newt?” Mrs. Choi asked. She probably hadn’t meant any harm. Her face displayed only concern. “Wasn't that who saw you with last night?”

“Yeah, that was her. But, uh, something came up. She had to head back home.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Alison’s mother, said. She looked like she meant it, too. But still, Hermann could tell Newt’s mood had turned south.

They set off towards the math hall, chattering, but Hermann couldn't focus on anyone other than Newt.

“Are you sure you wanna come?” he asked quietly.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I’m not sure… I’m not sure I can be alone,” Newt said.

“Oh. Alright. Okay.”

Hermann was at a loss for words, but thankfully, they arrived at his first class.

They moved through his teachers quickly. There was hardly very much for them to tell his father. He did well in class, he was an attentive student, and he did all of his work. Other than a few comments by Newt about the sheer level of brown-nosing Hermann did, there was no criticism. The look Lars gave Newt after his comment only helped to punctuate the term stone-like. It made Hermann laugh.

He couldn't help but feel the satisfaction praise always brought him. Even during a stressful, awkward weekend, there was no way he was going to ignore a well deserved compliment. Hermann had worked hard all year, doing everything he could to succeed, to live his life according to his father’s plans. And he was doing it!

They visited his english teacher, who remarked that Hermann just might be the most diligent student she’d ever had, and they passed through the physics classroom.  Afterwards, Tendo and Alison parted from the group. They were headed to graphics class, which Hermann hadn’t taken, and Lars suggested they should go to the history department.

Mr. Hansen was at his desk, shuffling through a pile of papers when they came in. He looked up, smile widening, and stuck out a large, weathered hand.

“You must be Mr. Gottlieb’s parents!” he exclaimed. No one corrected him. In return, when he cast a puzzled look Newt’s way, he didn't mention it. In truth, it did feel odd to have Newt along, but he wanted him there, first off, and Lars had yet to question it. Better to let things lie.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hansen,” Lars said, shaking the man’s offered hand.

“Well, I’ll admit, I probably don't have much to say about Hermann you haven’t already heard,” Mr. Hansen began with a shrug. “He’s an excellent student. Eager to learn, although I feel like he’s teaching me more than I’m teaching him. Not to sound cliche. But, yeah, he’s a pleasure to have in class.”

Hermann’s father nodded, obviously pleased with the information.

“And, Uh, Newt… I don't know if you're… Or. You’re a bright boy-” Mr. Hansen stuttered out, obviously confused. Newt laughed before it could get any awkward, interrupting the stumbling progress.

“Got it, sir. I’m uh, just tagging along with Hermann. My parents couldn't make it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I met your uncle last year, when you were in my World Religions class. He seemed like a very good man.”

“What are you gonna do, right?” Newt chuckled. He was moving towards the door, obviously eager to get out of the tension filled room, and Mr. Hansen, catching his intent, let him, along with Hermann and his father and Michelle.

Newt let out a breath as they were moving along down the hall, glancing at Hermann and shooting him a reassuring smile. Shouldn't Hermann be the one doing the reassuring?

“Where are we going next?” Lars prodded.

Even he looked a little uncomfortable. Hermann wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.

“Art. That’s on the ground floor.”

“Where’s the elevator?”

“Down this hall, sir,” Hermann immediately. Newton stared at him, probably deciding whether to ask why Hermann would use the elevator when he always used the stairs. He shook his head, just slightly, hoping Newton would understand that he shouldn't mention it.

Newt kept silent.

They rode down the the lowest level in silence. Lars’ large frame looked positively bulky in the confined space, and Michelle didn't seem much smaller. Hermann felt like there wasn't enough air to go around, and he tried to slow his breaths. There wasn’t nearly enough room in the metal death-trap. He realized how irrational this fear was. They were built with safety in mind specifically, but for what felt like the millionth time that weekend, rationality and logic failed him. He was the first through the sliding doors and out into the hall. Newton took the helm.

“This way, ladies and gentlemen, to our esteemed art classrooms. Where creativity and emotion reign supreme!” he announced, gesturing grandly.

It took the attention off of Hermann, who was sure he looked pale as a sheet after the ride, even if the other boy was making himself look ridiculous. Now Newton  was conducting an invisible orchestra as he explained that the ground floor was also where the band room was.

“That includes both strings and brass, of course. Fun fact: I happen to play the guitar.”

“How fascinating,” Lars said, not sounding fascinated at all.

“Right,” Newton exclaimed, glancing back at the older man. “Uh, this is it.”

They were indeed arriving before Mr. Pentecost’s door, propped open with a small pile of ancient looking textbooks. Hermann winced at the misuse. Newt knocked a few beats into the open door, something obviously familiar to him. And, it seemed, Mr. Pentecost.

“Come in, Newt,” he called, voice the very essence of barely restrained annoyance and maybe a little bit of affection. But probably not.

“Not just me, sir!”

“I’m Lars Gottlieb,” Hermann’s father introduced himself, face carefully blank. Obviously he wasn’t going to be putting up with many more of Newton’s odd antics.

“Hello. I’m Stacker Pentecost, and of course, your son’s art teacher.”

“This is my…friend, Michelle Derchter. We’ve come to talk about Hermann’s performance.”

“Why don’t you take a seat?”

Was that a bad sign? None of his other teachers had asked them to sit down. Hermann felt like he might throw up. Thank God no one told Newton to leave, like he suspected all of the adults wanted him to, because he needed him there. He needed someone on his side. Hermann slumped into one of the seats, and Newton sat besides him without having to be asked. Their arms were pressed together, but Hermann didn't take his hand like he wanted to do. He couldn't even imagine what his father would say if Hermann’s art grade wasn't up to par. Lars hadn’t even wanted him to waste time on the class. He’d called it frivolous, a waste of time. Hermann felt cold.

Lars didn't want to waste any time on pleasantries. He sat, but he didn't relax, leaning forward to meet Mr. Pentecost’s eyes directly.

“How is my son doing in your class?” he asked simply. Straight to the horrible, life ruining point. Hermann thought he might scream. Newton shoved him slightly, his own little gesture of solidarity, perhaps.

“Your son is doing fairly well. To be honest, though, he could certainly do better.”

Well there it was. But that wasn't enough for Lars.

“Well how are his grades? Is my son not putting forth the proper amount of effort?” he expression was dark, his shoulders were stiff. Hermann could feel the anger rolling off of him in waves.

“Hermann has a 93. His grades aren’t horrible. And I don’t think he’s willfully lazy. I believe Hermann took this class as a sort of break. He’s got talent, but he’s too self conscious to take any risks.”

Lars’ eyes snapped to him, and his scowl was one Hermann was familiar with only because he’d seen it used on his older siblings a few times before.  It did not bode well for him

“Hermann,” he barked. The jump was more of a reflex than a conscious choice, a natural response to both the volume and tone of his father’s voice.

“Yes sir,” he responded, voice small. The lump in his throat made him sure he couldn’t get a breath.

“Not only did I tell you not to take this class, which we both know is in no way preparing you for your future, but now it’s become apparent that you can't even do the simplest things,” he exclaimed.

“Now, Mr. Gottlieb, I hardly said that,” Pentecost interjected, but Lars paid him no mind.

“Your irresponsibility is absolutely unacceptable. Do you hear me?” he snapped. He’d stood, drawing up to his full impressive height, and Hermann was sure that the only reason he wasn't shouting was because they weren’t in private. Still, his voice was loud. He must’ve been extremely angry, to speak like this in front of strangers.

“Do you hear me?’

“Yes sir, but-”

“No excuses. If you don’t bring the grade up I’ll-”

“Mr. Gottlieb!” Pentecost shouted. Both father and son turned to look at him. “Your son is not irresponsible! Actually, he’s one the most responsible young men I think I’ve ever met. Responsibility is not his problem.”

“You don’t know my son,” Lars replied tersely.

“I think I know him pretty well. And now I think I know why he’s not the artist he could be. He’s so paralyzed by the fear that if he does one thing wrong you’ll rake him over the coals that he doesn’t try.”

“Excuse me, but I will not be spoken to like this.”  

“This is my class room, and Hermann is my student. I won’t sit by while you berate him.”

“Come on, Hermann. Michelle, don’t forget your coat,” Lars ordered, eyes narrowed. “And you, boy, stay away from my son. it’s obvious you and your friends have been a terrible influence on him.”

“Hermann, don’t go,” Newt exclaimed, glaring right back at Lars. Hermann couldn't believe this was happening. He was humiliated. But he couldn’t move, because Lars looked ready to explode.

“Come on!” Lars commanded.

“Would you shut up!” Newt snapped. “You’re just as bad as the rest of them. You bully him into getting what you want from him. And then he just caves, because you can yell louder. And I don’t know if you knew this, but Hermann’s more afraid of you than he is of anything else in the whole entire world. We shouldn't be afraid of our parents,”

Lars’ anger subsided, but it wasn't replaced with understanding. His father didn't suddenly open his arms, and everything didn’t get better. His father’s face turned to stone, eyes cold, and he turned.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah,” Newt answered. There wasn't much else to say, though, was there? And Hermann hadn't said a word.

Lars slammed the door on the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's Part II. Feedback welcome. See ya next week.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so, I have this pretty much locked in plot-wise, and I'm going to keep to a weekly update schedule, i swear. Any lapse in time will be for a good cause, not that I foresee any as-of-yet. Future updates will be longer, don't worry. Also, archive warnings as of yet haven't been an issue, but that might change as the fic goes along. Hermann and Newton are both like 17/18 during this fic, so I didn't flag for underage.  
> Hope you're enjoying the fic so far!


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